


Maybe Tomorrow

by katnissdoesnotfollowback



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Cringe fest, Eventual Happy Ending, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Narrator voice: it was not, One Night Stands, Snowed In, Trope fest, and SMUT, it's definitely not unrequited, just two idiots falling in love, liberally sprinkled with cheese, like i so badly want to quote shakespeare in love here, mention of infidelity, of a minor character, oodles of smut, or is it???, or it is, rebecca is my rosalind, second hand embarrassment, topped with an, unrequited childhood crush, you know the line about rosalind being a piece of baggage we never even meet?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:00:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 42,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27126209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katnissdoesnotfollowback/pseuds/katnissdoesnotfollowback
Summary: Written for the 2020 Everlark Fic Exchange to fill the prompt: one night stand everlark sleeping together the same night a terrible snowstorm hits the city and everything gets shut down with no way to get home. Perhaps a two night stand?Hint... it's a two night stand because someone handed me an excuse to write more smut. So I wrote more smut.
Relationships: Katniss Everdeen/Peeta Mellark
Comments: 61
Kudos: 206
Collections: Everlark Fic Exchange - Springtime 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Smooches to buttercupbadass and @stjohn27 for pre-reading and editing this minor monstrosity. It weighs in at just over 42k words, for your planning purposes. I must also give a nod to buttercupbadass for inspiring one of my fave lines/running gags in this story. If you have not read her fic Peeta’s Pocket, you should. Prepare to laugh. 
> 
> Also a million thanks to @javistg and @xerxia31 for dedicating their time and efforts to this event we all look forward to. Ladies, you are amazing and thank you also for all your patience and being able to laugh with me as I failed to limit myself in picking prompts. 
> 
> I wound up splitting this one into smaller chapters as well to make for easier reading, since I know it's a bit of a beast for a oneshot. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy!

His eyes itch and his head is pounding. His tongue feels like it has a permanent layer of fuzz coating it, despite the number of times he brushed his teeth and ran his toothbrush over his tongue this morning, lathering the toothpaste until he looked rabid in the mirror. People pack the airport so tight that he can smell someone’s body odor under the stench of their perfume. He attempts to gouge out the pain beating inside his cranium, through his eyeballs, but knows it’s no use. His entire being aches and whatever the cure for it is, it isn’t in Colorado Springs International Airport. Nor is it in the line he’s been waiting in for over an hour to get through security. Peeta hands over his ticket and his ID. The TSA agent circles items on the ticket and then looks up. 

And squints.

“Sir…”

“Yeah, I know. My ID somehow looks better than me. It’s been a bad month. Does this help?” Peeta takes his glasses off, the whole world going blurry for a second until he’s able to focus on the man’s face but nothing else.

The man takes a slight breath and then something like sympathy flickers in his eyes before he hands Peeta’s paperwork back over to him. Great. Just what he needs. He must really have hit rock bottom if the overworked, underpaid, and generally hated TSA agents are feeling sorry for him.

He returns his glasses to his nose, stuffs the items into his bag and practically tosses it onto the conveyor belt. Next go the shoes, and the belt, which causes a brief moment of distress when his pants nearly slip down his hips. Just what he needs, a trip to security for flashing a couple hundred people.

His bag gets flagged, and he forgets to mention his leg, which means he has to do the spread of shame, his limbs spread eagle as they wave the wand over him while he explains that his left leg is a prosthetic. They have him lift his pants enough to show them and when he releases the leg, Peeta prays that his pants don’t give up too just yet and slide off his waist. Maybe he should have binged on cake after all. But just thinking of cake right now leaves a sour taste in his mouth.

“Alright sir, you can go,” the man tells him and waves Peeta off to the side where his bag is sort of repacked after being searched. He answers this TSA agent’s questions and when that’s finally done, he sighs and just hugs the thing to his chest with one arm, holding his pants, shoes and belt in the other hand.

Just get me the fuck away from here, he thinks and shuffles off to the side to get himself put back together.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At least it’s not me, Katniss thinks as she slips behind the blonde man being searched further, the wand hovering near his crotch, and then moving on.

She grabs her bag from the bottom of the x-ray machine, slides her laptop back inside and then balances precariously as she puts her heels back on her feet. The week has been bad enough without capping it off with additional searches from TSA. She hurries down the concourse as fast as her heels will allow her before security gets a sense of her bad week vibes and decides that she needs a random search in her life. She definitely does not need that hassle right now. Thankfully, she makes it to her gate, without being searched, and bites her lip as she stares at the screen behind the desk.

“Damn it,” she mutters. She’d been hoping to catch an earlier flight out on standby, before the weather hits and grounds everything. They’re predicting a pretty nasty snow storm, which is also the exact opposite of what she needs. All she wants to do right now is get home, soak in her tub, and cry in the privacy of her home for about six hours before she has to pull herself together and deliver the bad news to her team. How on earth is she going to fix this?

Not tonight, obviously. Her standby flight is already delayed, and the forecast isn’t looking great for her actual flight either. She checks it’s status on her phone. For right now, it’s showing as  **On Time** , but there’s always a strong possibility of that changing. Now Katniss is caught in a game of Which Flight Will Get Lucky and Leave First?

She decides she needs a drink and turns to fight her way through the crowd to the nearest bar. Normally she wouldn’t. She knows alcohol solves nothing, but in this case, maybe it will make her feet go numb and help her forget the pain shooting up through her heels. The bar is packed, of course. With a sigh, she settles in to wait her turn.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Peeta scrubs a hand over his face as he stares at the scrolling red numbers.  _ Delayed three hours. Take off time 1410. _

Of course, he would have known this before getting to the airport, if he had checked his phone. He’d been so careful at planning  _ everything _ . Every step of this trip, which was supposed to be the happiest of his life, planned down to the smallest detail, because his bride-to-be needed everything to be perfect and Peeta couldn’t stand to be or do anything less than perfect for her. 

Look at how well that turned out.

But he hadn’t checked the app tracking his flights this morning. He hadn’t checked online or with the airlines. In fact, his phone hasn’t been turned on in nearly five full days. If he had to suffer through one more consolatory text or well meaning friend calling to let him vent or to tell him that there were other fish in the sea, if he had to listen to yet another relative reminding him that they never liked Rebecca anyways and that he deserved this vacation, never mind the fact that every second of it was a piercing reminder that he was  _ not _ married when he should be, he was going to commit a heinous crime to get himself locked away from humanity for the rest of his life. Just so he’d have a good excuse for not answering their calls and wouldn’t have to worry about biting back the scathing question.

_ If you hated her so much, why didn’t you say something  _ **_before_ ** _ I proposed to her? _

Being dumped for his best man three days before his wedding has really brought out the worst in him.

Without further delay, Peeta spins on his heel and marches towards the nearest bar. He needs a drink. Now. Never mind that he’s spent the entire week of what  _ should _ have been his honeymoon in a drunken haze split between the hotel bar, the tub in his room, the couch, or the floor. Not the bed. Anywhere but the giant bed that somehow looked too much like the one in the apartment Rebecca had been decorating, preparing for them to move into after their wedding, and that would no doubt now be hosting marathon sex sessions with someone  _ not  _ Peeta...if it hasn’t already.

Fuck. Yes. Alcohol. Now, is all he can think, dodging the memories and all his carefully itemized failures.

How the hell was he supposed to sleep in  _ that bed _ ? He’d wanted to shout when he dropped his bags on the hotel floor a week ago, but there was no one to hear him because he’d declined valet service and he was traveling alone. Completely and pathetically alone. He didn’t need another person looking at him with pity when they realized the suite decked out for a honeymoon would only be servicing the would-have-been groom.

In his haste to reach the airport bar, Peeta’s shoulder connects with someone. She gasps and nearly topples. His hand shoots out in reflex and pulls her back upright. She tips too far in the opposite direction and collides with his chest.

“Sorry. Shit, I am so sorry,” he mutters and steps away from her as cloudy gray eyes focus on his face and glare. “Crap. And now I’m cursing at you, too. Sorry for my language.”

Her glare doesn’t soften in the slightest, but remains hot enough to burn holes in his skull and melt the soles off his shoes.

Thank  _ fuck _ , he thinks. Someone being angry with him is so much better right now than yet another person pitying him.

“It’s fine,” she snaps and yanks her arm out of his grasp. He flexes his fingers and adjusts his bag, eyes dropping off to the side and finally noticing the crowd waiting to be seated.

“I’ll just...wait my turn,” he says, and she sighs.

“That would be nice.”

Peeta clamps his mouth shut and stays silent as they wait. Inching forward. He checks his watch. Time crawls forward at about the same pace as this line. The woman in front of him shifts on her feet. Lifts her heels out of her shoes and then pushes them back in. She checks her phone, answers a text message or two. Peeta considers turning his phone on, just so he has something to do with his hands while he waits, but by now he’s almost afraid to face the deluge of unanswered messages that have accumulated over four days.

Or worse...that haven’t.

His manners must have vacated his body along with his engagement and hopes for a happy matrimony because his eyes keep darting back to the woman’s phone. She seems familiar somehow, but he can’t place his finger on it. He tells himself that’s why he keeps looking over her shoulder at her screen as more people join the line behind him and start doing that thing where they press closer to you, a fraction of an inch at a time, as though that will speed up their wait.

She powers through her email and Facebook. He barely gets a glimpse of those, too busy shifting nervously to get a better look at her profile. Her facial profile. Not her Facebook profile. He’s not a complete creep. 

College perhaps? Although he can’t place her anywhere in those memories. God he hopes she’s not one of the handful of drunken one night stands whose faces he can’t remember clearly and who left him in bed without their phone numbers. Another reminder of more fuck ups in his life, no matter how long ago they were, is not what he needs right now.

But did he sleep with a ballerina? He doesn’t think so. Her severe bun, lithe figure, and sharp cheekbones make him think of a dancer, although he supposes she could have any profession in the world. 

Maybe she’s a customer at the bakery? That’s the most likely reason for her familiarity and why he can’t place her. He’s usually so good with faces and names, remembering people who cross his path, and she somehow feels important. Then again, Peeta’s not entirely certain he isn’t still hung over. His brain feels sluggish at best, and that isn’t helping him sort through memories to place her.

His eyes catch the up swipe of her finger closing out apps and then an annoyed shift of her feet as she opens Tinder and begins the fastest, most efficient clearing out of matches he’s ever seen. 

Not that he’s watched lots of people clear out their matches on Tinder, but this seems a little brutal. Tinder, though? How is this woman single? She’s beautiful and has an air of frightening efficiency. Peeta doesn’t doubt that she has a one year, five year, ten year plan… and is well on her way to accomplishing all of them. Still, he feels a slight twinge of second hand embarrassment for the speed with which she rejects so many men.

She pauses for maybe a second or two on each face before passing judgment. It’s somehow mesmerizing and fascinating. How does she make her decisions so fast? An entire human judged within seconds and the flick of her finger. The motion would almost look like a seductive come hither except that she swipes right on  _ maybe _ two out of probably a half dozen, rejecting the majority. He wonders how he’d fare, on a good day, not today. Then Peeta’s stomachs drops at the next face that fills her screen.

It’s  _ his  _ face. 

But how is that possible? He doesn’t even have a Tinder. Before he can form a guess as to how his smiling picture wound up on this woman’s phone, she swipes left. 

Rejected. Again.

A sardonic laugh escapes his lips. Why the fuck not? He’s already been left at the altar, why not this too?

“ _ Ouch _ . Hard ‘no’ on one that one?” he asks. She turns slowly to face him and he’s once more struck by the feeling that he’s seen her somewhere before,  _ knows _ her somehow. Which, of course, makes her rejection of him hurt a thousand times more than it should.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Texting Prim and her mother to let them know where she is, and that she’s probably going to get stuck, helps Katniss pass the time and distracts her from the increasingly tight quarters as more people seek solace from the waits for their flights at the bar. Katniss gets sucked into a quick barrage of love and conversation with her family that makes her smile and eases the frustration. When the texting tapers off, she opens one random app after another. She takes care of her email. Likes a few of Leevy’s posts on Facebook about the kids. She considers playing a handful of rousing rounds of some dumb match three game but rejects that and finally opens Tinder.

Might as well clear out the latest round of useless potential matches while she’s got time to kill. There’s just under a dozen, surprisingly, although Katniss hasn’t opened the app at all the past week and a half, maybe longer, so maybe not  _ shocking _ . Just annoying. 

She scowls at her screen, further annoyed with her own thoughts. She only joined this app because Johanna and Finnick kept insisting that she needed a decent date, and Johanna would not shut up about trying to set Katniss up with one of Johanna’s friends whom she insisted is perfect for Katniss. Since Katniss doesn’t want or need a pity hook up, she dug in her heels and refused to even meet the guy. Eventually, Johanna had capitulated and agreed to leave the blind dates alone as long as Katniss signed up for Tinder... and actually used it. 

That’s a loose enough definition to work for Katniss. She set up her profile and only checked on occasion. It’s not  _ her _ fault if she never had any mutual matches, right? Tinder also had the added benefit of simplicity in Katniss’ mind. She would not be pestered by anyone she hadn’t felt a passing interest in, and the snap decisions format appealed to her.

_ Nope. Nope. Nope _ , She thinks as she swipes left on the first three after just a glance. Really, with what’s going on at work, she doesn’t have time for a relationship anyways. Still, she can hear Finnick complaining that she’s being superficial and not even trying. Katniss pauses on the next profile long enough to read his name and age, Marvel 27. His occupation, gemstone appraiser. And his description. He’s attractive and doesn’t sound like a total douchebag, other than his name, but that’s not his fault, right? So she swipes right and moves on, neither surprised nor disappointed when she’s not awarded with an immediate match.

There. Now she can tell Finnick and Jo that she’s made progress. She’s feeling downright charitable and swipes left on the next two with zero feelings of guilt. She chuckles inwardly as Darius’ face pops up and she swipes right just for the laughs they can share about recycled profiles later. 

Another right because his career description means he’s a possible networking connection, and then she pauses on the next one. He’s cute. Really cute. His warm smile somehow transfers to her body and she feels herself blushing. Oh no. She will not tolerate instant attractions. They never end well. It makes Katniss suspicious about why he would be on this site. Surely he’s got a girlfriend. The longer she stares at him, the hotter he seems to become with the cuffs of his green button down shirt rolled up to reveal tantalizing forearms. And his eyes are an unreal shade of blue. That has to be photoshopped. Maybe he’s a complete asshole. There’s also this weird feeling in her belly, like she’s seen him before...like she  _ knows _ him...but she can’t place from where. The feeling of déja vu unsettles her enough to make her decision for her and she swipes left.

“Ouch.” The voice behind her startles her and she turns towards it, towards the man who bumped into her not even ten minutes ago. Katniss is stunned motionless by the same blue eyes she just swiped left on her phone. No, not the same. The eyes in the picture were bright and joyful, almost laughing. These eyes are sardonic and almost bitter. Tired. The man on her phone did not wear glasses, this guy does. Contacts, her brain quickly supplies. But it’s still him. “Hard ‘no’ on that one?”

His question infuriates her, his snooping even more so. Her face immediately creases into a scowl and she’s not sure what annoys her more, the fact that he’s clearly been looking over her shoulder and saw her reject him or the fact that he doesn’t look much like his profile picture right now. His clothes are rumpled and his hair isn’t dirty but neither is it styled. A few days worth of scruff lines his jaw, obscuring what were sharp, strong lines in his profile picture. He looks like he’s having a rough patch, not at all like the happy, friendly man she just rejected on Tinder. Whoever does swipe right on him is in for an unpleasant surprise.

“It’s rude to look over someone’s shoulder like that,” she finally manages to say.

“You’re right. Allow me some lapses in manners. It’s a crowded airport, it hasn’t exactly been the best month for me -“ Katniss can’t help but snort rudely at this but he ignores her and keeps going. “The news channel they’ve got on is recycling the same five stories. I’ve been awake since four this morning, and just got publicly rejected.”

“Wouldn’t have been public if you weren’t so nosy.”

“Ouch again. Guess I deserved that one, though.” He doesn’t much sound like he thinks he deserves it.

“Probably,” Katniss mutters and turns to face forward again, effectively ending the conversation. Her cheeks flame and her insides squirm. She  _ knows  _ him from somewhere. She’s sure of it now, and it’s eating her up. Random encounter on the subway? Maybe he was someone’s plus one to a work function.

He sighs behind her and Katniss can feel her back turning ramrod stiff, mentally preparing her best put downs if this guy turns into a jerk in the middle of the airport. She’s gonna need a massage when she gets home if she can’t dispel the tension she’s been carrying in her lower spine.

“I’m sorry. You’re right. It really hasn’t been the best month for me. I’m not lying about that, and quite honestly, I didn’t even make a Tinder profile. So I was… caught completely off guard. None of that is an excuse for watching over your shoulder, though.”

Katniss nods once and hopes he drops it. She’s not going to argue how ridiculous it is for him to claim he doesn’t have a Tinder profile when she literally just saw it.

“I hope one of them works out for you, though. Excuse me.”

Her brow crinkles and she turns once more, in time to watch him working his way through the crowds, away from her. Her mouth drops open, a little stunned by how easily he dropped it and walked away. His last words to her sounded contrite, genuine, but also... defeated?

And suddenly, she’s not interested in alcohol at all.

She remains in line for another minute before giving up and instead heading to one of the gift shops. She purchases an overpriced pair of slippers and shoves her heels into her carry on. If she’s going to be stuck here for hours, at least she’s going to be somewhat comfortable. Normally she’d wear flats to travel, but her favorite ballet flats got ruined in the snow this trip, so she was forced to wear her heels today. Just one more thing.

Her feet now comfortable, she decides to attempt food instead and wanders down the concourse, eventually deciding on the one place that has a moderate line rather than a hellacious line. As she joins the queue, her eyes dart to a familiar blonde head. He’s seated alone at one of the tables, his head bent over a phone, a half drunk glass of water next to his hand. Katniss tries and fails to stop the groan that draws his attention to her over the half wall and plants separating them.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he says and Katniss purses her lips and nods. She waits for him to say something else but he doesn’t. When she looks back over, he’s staring at her.

“Do you mind?”

“Oh,” he says and then starts laughing. Not with humor but with sarcasm. “Of course. Katniss Everdeen.”

“I beg your pardon?” She seethes, completely thrown by how this bum knows her name.

“I knew that I knew you from somewhere. And here you are. Your hair is lighter than I remember. And...brown.”

“That doesn’t explain—“

“You’re right, it doesn’t,” he says and stands, extending his hand over the barrier between them. “You probably don’t even remember me from high school, but I’m Peeta. Peeta Mellark.”

“No you’re not,” she says and ignores his hand. His smile, which was just starting to look warm and familiar again, falters. He  _ can’t _ be Peeta Mellark. Of all the cruel jokes for fate to play on her, this would just be the clincher. But damn it, now that he’s said it, she knows it’s the truth.

“Uh, pretty sure I am,” he looks down at his chest as though the answer is in his clothes or his well worn shoes.

She considers hiding in the bathrooms for the next two hours instead of eating, because this is just too humiliating. Because  _ of course  _ fate would hand her a match on Tinder with her unrequited high school crush, and of course he would look just too damn good to be true on his profile, but she wouldn’t recognize him, and then of course, fickle fate drops the man in the flesh into the line behind her, where he can see her reject him on the barest feeling of familiarity after only a two second glance. And of course, in person he looks as though the world has been using him as a punching bag. God, will she ever stop hurting him?

Before she can move, he lifts his gaze to her again and she watches the slow fading of his smile.

“I really am sorry that I was looking over your shoulder. Can I buy you lunch to make up for being rude?” She opens her mouth to protest and Peeta lifts a hand to stop her. “Since you’ve already swiped left, I think it’s safe to say this would really just be two acquaintances who happen to be stranded at the airport at the same time having lunch and nothing more. And if you aren’t comfortable with me buying lunch, at least let me offer you a seat and shorten your wait.”

His hand motions to the empty chair across the table from him and her eyes follow. It would be nice to get off her feet and not have to wait as long to eat.

“They haven’t taken my order yet and I promise I won’t say another word if you don’t want me to, and you’ll never have to see or speak to me again after this.”

“You don’t look like you can afford to be paying for my lunch,” Katniss retorts.

“Yikes lady, take the seat or I will,” the person behind her says and she glances back at the guy, a snapping retort forming on her lips.

“It’s not money that has me looking like this,” Peeta assures her softly. “But I’ll spare you the story. Since I promised not to talk.”

It only takes her shifting her weight at the residual pain from trekking across the airport in her heels to make up her mind.

“Okay, fine.”

He smiles as she politely excuses her way to the front and explains to the hostess that her friend is already inside with a table. She points out a still standing Peeta, who waves at them and the harried hostess motions her inside the restaurant.

“Alright. Go on in.”

“Thank you,” Katniss says gratefully and weaves her way through the packed tables and baggage scattered in aisles towards Peeta. When she gets there, he’s pulling out a chair for her and she glares.

“I thought you said this wasn’t a date.” He lifts his hands in surrender and steps back to his own chair, leaving her to fumble and deal with her bag and chair alone in the crowded space.

“Katniss Everdeen,” he says quietly, although he doesn’t seem too thrilled to see her. Her cheeks burn hotter at his remembrance of her. She’d thought he hadn’t even known she was alive in high school until that one day. That one awful day she’s never been able to forget, although she’d hoped he had. Had hoped beyond measure or reason that he would simply move on from it. There’s no way it affected him as much as it did her. Yet, here he is, remembering her face ten years and a thousand miles away. “I knew I recognized you from somewhere. That's why I kept glancing at your phone.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“I was trying not to stare at your face, because that would’ve been rude.” She snorts at his predicament and he leans back in his seat.

“Sorry,” she mutters and puts her menu up between them. She can still see him over the top of it as he shakes his head.

True to his word, he stops talking after that. The silence is palpable. She can feel it breathing and growing with each question that beats around her brain as she watches him over the menu, flipping through something on his phone. Lips pursed and his usual, easy expression that she remembers so fondly is completely gone.

What happened to you? She wants to ask. Who hurt you so badly? What disappointments have brought you to this sallow skinned, hollow eyed man? What happened to the sunshine boy with the bread she once knew?

Katniss bites her lip and hopes it wasn’t her that caused this, even though that would be utterly ridiculous if it was her.

The server appears then and Katniss nearly leaps in sudden exuberance, thrilled to have the interruption. She knows both Peeta and the waitress are staring at her like she’s crazy or something, but she doesn’t care. Anything is better than the silence stretching between them.

She rattles off her order a little too loudly and then turns to Peeta. He smiles slightly then looks up at the waitress and says, “I’ll have the same.”

Katniss shifts uncomfortably at this and he mutters that it’s probably the only decent thing on their menu. She can’t help the tiny snort or her smile. “Yeah that’s kind of what I was thinking, too.”

After the waitress leaves, they once more drop into silence. Katniss taps her fingers on the table and watches the parade of people down the concourse. Peeta is once more absorbed in his phone. Eventually, she can’t take the silence any more.

“So if you don’t have a Tinder, how’d your face wind up on my phone?”

Peeta takes a deep breath and stares at her intently before answering. “Karma.”

The bottom drops out of her stomach as she stares back, her cheeks now truly burning as she’s thrown back in time almost ten years. Could he possibly hold a grudge for what happened? That doesn’t seem at all like the Peeta she kind of, sort of knew in high school… then again it has been ten years.

“Wow,” he mutters and a sudden smile splits his face as he chuckles. “I’m totally pulling your chain, Katniss. Apparently Delly set it all up while I had my phone turned off and didn’t answer anyone’s calls for five days.”

“Oh.” Delly must be Delly Cartwright. She and Peeta were so close in high school that Katniss isn’t entirely surprised that they’re still connected. She can’t quite place what she feels about it, though and fiddles with the hem of her blazer before grabbing hold of her water glass and practically stammering out the question. “Why would Delly set up a dating profile for you?”

Peeta takes a deep breath and shakes his head. “I promised I’d spare you the story.”

“That was the story about your bad month.” His intent gaze returns to her and under his expectant scrutiny, she blushes, once more taking a distracting sip of water to keep from stupidly uttering the word “Oh” yet again. She’s never been a great conversationalist, but this is bad even for her. Obviously he’s single, but how single? Clearly his love life is somehow connected to his having a bad month, but the details are still obscure. Katniss drops it after that, even though a couple dozen new questions are now dancing on the tip of her tongue. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Peeta can’t decide if he’s disappointed or grateful that Katniss has dropped it. He hasn’t seen her since graduation, and even then, their last real interaction didn’t exactly go well for him. Rejection seems to be the name of the game for him this month, and where Katniss Everdeen is concerned, it’s always been the name of the game. Not that he resents  _ her _ for it, just the fact that he can’t seem to escape the pattern.

He swipes his fingers back over his phone screen and stares at his text thread with Delly. His longtime friend had apparently spent the five days he went silent bombarding his phone, all of his social media, his email, trying to get in touch with him. All culminating in the texts she sent him while he sat at this table alone, before Katniss showed up.

“So,” Katniss says and when he glances up, she’s shifting in her seat and tracing patterns in the condensation on her water glass. “What have you been up to since high school?”

“You really wanna know?”

“Just answer the damn question, Peeta,” Katniss says and he stares at her. “I’m trying to not make it awkward here, and you’re not helping. You’re the one who was looking over my shoulder. You used to be good at making things not...awkward…” she trails off and waves her hand in the air vaguely. Her cheeks stain a bright color.

“Are you serious right now or are you fucking with me?” he leans forward and whispers the question so no one else will hear him ask it. Katniss stares down at the table and purses her lips for a moment.

“Never mind. Just… I’m gonna go ask them to make my food a to-go order.” She stands and something in him desperately reaches out, terrified of what happens if she walks away from him. If another person walks away from him.

“Wait,” he says as his fingers wrap around her wrist. She’s already half out of her chair and hovers there awkwardly, glaring at his hand on her. He yanks his hand back, releasing her and sighing in exasperation at himself. “Look, I just…”

Unable to finish, Peeta sets his elbows on the table and rubs his hands together before scrubbing his face with his palms. Bending his head forward, he spears his fingers into his hair, squeezes his eyes shut. His foot is bouncing again, a nervous tick he seems to have picked up in the past few weeks, or maybe it was always there.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters. “It was nice to see you again, Katniss, and I wish you all the best.”

The chair scrapes and Peeta waits a few minutes, tugging on his hair and gaining control of his bouncing knee again before he risks looking up at the empty chair.

Katniss stares back at him, seated once again, her head tilted and her gray eyes watching him curiously.

“You’re still here?” Peeta asks and all Katniss does is tilt her head the other way. The motion reminds him of a bird and he can’t help the smile tickling the corners of his lips upwards. Half a dozen pleasant memories of childhood aid the reluctant expression. She watches him and finally her lips part, only for her to take a breath and not speak. Peeta finds himself on the edge of his seat, eagerly waiting for what she might say.

Just like high school all over again.

“You really have had the shit kicked out of you, haven’t you,” Katniss states this and he snorts in response.

“You have no idea.”

“Alright. I’m curious now,” she says and reaches out to swirl her straw in her water. “So, Peeta… what have you been up to since high school?”

The whole situation is just so absurd that he flattens his palms on the table and leans back, taking a deep breath before spilling out a highly redacted version of it.

“Well for starters, I’m supposed to be married right now.” Her mouth thins at this and her eyes drop to his left hand. A small thrill goes through him as he wonders why she looked. Why did she look for that ring? Because maybe it’s been ten years and a thousand miles, but there’s something about Katniss Everdeen that still makes Peeta’s heart trip a funny beat and his stomach flip. In a good way, not the way it has been for the past few days, hovering right on the brink of so drunk that he needed to puke.

“But you’re not. Married, that is.” Katniss prompts when her eyes return to his.

“That’s right. I’m not married. This,” he waves at the airport around them. “This is my honeymoon. The end of it, at least.”

“Fuck,” Katniss breathes and he chuckles.

“Yeah. Rebecca – my ex-fiancée – broke off the wedding…” he pauses to look at the ceiling and count quickly on his fingers “…thirteen days ago.”

Katniss breathes out a heavy breath and Peeta reaches for his water, smiling sardonically into the clear liquid and not looking at her as he delivers the best part of it.

“She eloped with my best man.”

Peeta isn’t sure what he was expecting out of Katniss, but the loud exclamation of “What the fuck?!” that leaves her pretty lips isn’t it. He stares at her over his glass, with her face twisted in fury and several heads turned towards her.

“Is he bothering you?” one of their table neighbors asks and Katniss sputters for a moment.

“What? No!” she dismisses the man as swiftly as she rejected Peeta on that Tinder app and leans across the table towards him. “So you went on your honeymoon alone?”

“Yeah…I mean, I’d already paid for it. Didn’t get the trip insurance because I dunno, it seemed a little pessimistic to do at the time. Who thinks they won’t be going on their honeymoon?”

“Wow, okay,” Katniss says, shaking her head. “I guess I just…that must have been the worst trip ever.”

Peeta smiles reluctantly, relieved that someone finally seems to understand.

“The worst.”

There’s a moment of silence where Katniss leans towards the table and seems to be thinking something over before asking him, “Can I ask you another question?”

“Sure, why not,” Peeta agrees and she takes a deep breath before asking it.

“How long were you engaged?”

“A year,” he says and finally manages a sip of water while Katniss asks her next question.

“And before that? How long were you together?”

“Two years before that,” Peeta says and Katniss throws her hands up in exasperation.

“No offense, Peeta, but in those three years, she couldn’t come to the realization that maybe she didn’t actually want to marry you?”

“She said that I’m too sensitive and get hurt so easily that she didn’t want to do it and break my heart.”

“What. The. Fuck,” Katniss says, shaking her head. “So she waits until three days before your wedding like that will somehow make it less painful?”

And Peeta admits it to himself. That this is it. This is what he needed. Someone to unequivocally step into his corner and nurse his bruised ego. Not ask what Peeta did wrong, or how he failed Rebecca, or where he must have been so deficient as a boyfriend, and then as a fiancé, that she would run off with the person Peeta had thought was his best friend. Not someone to suggest he needed to move on, get over her fast, see this as a second chance or new beginning. He didn’t need anyone else suggesting Rebecca was right about his sensitivity, but rather shared this indignation that what she did was cruel, regardless of how sensitive the person she hurt might be.

“Maybe we should order a couple beers to go with our food,” Katniss suggests and Peeta worries for a second that he really is going to get sick.

“No, please. I think I need a few days to dry out. I’ve drunk enough in the past week to put a college frat boy to shame. I might actually still be hung over.”

“Oh. I didn’t mean to… I just figured—“

“It’s fine, Katniss. Truthfully, getting in that line and seeing you swipe left may have saved me from alcohol poisoning. Real bit of luck, that.” Katniss laughs slightly at this and shakes her head.

“Alright, no alcohol.”

“Thank you.” 

“No problem. But wow. Can’t say I blame you for drinking away your honeymoon. Who on earth thought you being here alone would be a good idea?”

More spills out of Peeta then, about how everyone he knew encouraged him to take his honeymoon alone to take a break and get away, to start working on improving himself. How instead the trip was an excruciating reminder of all his failures, and how he couldn’t take it anymore, finally turning his phone off five days ago and losing himself in a bottle. Or sixteen. Rousing himself today only to get himself home, and now getting stranded.

“And apparently, somewhere in those five days of silence, Delly decided to create a Tinder profile for me.”

“It’s a little soon to be moving on already,” Katniss says as their food arrives. They both lean back to make room for the plates and quietly thank the server, dipping right back into the conversation once she’s gone. “I mean, you must’ve loved her a lot if you were going to marry her. That isn’t healed in a matter of days.”

“No, it isn’t. And drowning it in alcohol doesn’t do the trick either. I’m walking proof of that…. barely.” Once again Katniss laughs lightly and he moves on before he loses his nerve to keep talking. “Delly claims she just wanted me to get a few positive matches as a way to show me that there are still people out there who would be interested in me romantically. She didn’t expect me to actually go on any dates right away”

“Oh,” Katniss says, her cheeks turning that gorgeous shade of pink again. He likes the way she blushes. If he’s honest with himself, he likes a lot about her. He always had, but… “And then I swiped left.”

“It’s okay, Katniss. If I’d known who you were at the time, or knew what Delly had done, maybe I would have been better prepared for that.”

“It’s not…” Katniss pauses and then leans forward as though sharing a terrible secret. “It’s not that I didn’t think you were attractive or interesting, it’s that you looked familiar and that made me feel…”

“Scared?”

“Uncomfortable,” she answers and he nods in understanding.

“It’s alright, really. I’ve already told Delly to take the profile down anyways. I’m not ready for that by any stretch of the imagination.”

Katniss glances away, chewing her food methodically as he watches her. Unlike him, time has been good to her. She looks incredible, poised and confident. Just watching her brings up all kinds of old feelings that Peeta’s forgotten, washed to a faded shade of denim in his memory, dried and forgotten like a discarded prom corsage. He clears his throat then.

“What about you?”

“What about me?” Katniss asks, suddenly wary again. Peeta shrugs, trying to look casual, when in reality, he’s burning with questions. Eager and engaged in another person in a way he hasn’t felt in…months.

Months? That can’t be right, he thinks and shakes it off to push for a little more from the intriguing woman in front of him.

“I’ve been talking your ear off for almost thirty minutes now. So what about you? What have you been up to since high school?”

“Hmmm, well I haven’t been left at the altar,” she says with a comical wince that pulls a laugh from his throat. “But that’s because I haven’t really been in a serious relationship for awhile.”

“Really?” The question comes out as an incredulous squeak, earning Peeta a scowl from her. He adjusts and attempts to atone for the slight, whatever it is. “It’s just, I’m surprised. You and Gale Hawthorne were always attached at the hip. Figured you two would have made a go of it.”

“Same could be said about you and Delly.”

“What? No,” Peeta shakes his head with an affectionate laugh. “I love Delly, but she’s like a sister to me.”

“Well, Gale’s like a brother to me.”

“No kidding. He uh, acted like there was more than that back in school.”

“Well we thought maybe there was. We tried,” Katniss explains with a shrug. “It didn’t work. Now we’re business partners and he’s married with three kids. I’m actually their godmother.”

She digs out her phone and quickly shows Peeta a few pictures of three boys. He laughs at one or two and she confirms that they are in fact, a Hawthorne Horde of Hellions. “But they’re all difficult to hate, unfortunately.”

“Congrats?” Peeta ventures and Katniss smiles at him as she returns her phone to her bag. She talks for a bit about her business, a green engineering consulting firm, and her sister, who Peeta remembers her being especially close to as kids, her baby niece who was born just a few months ago. There’s so much more he wants to learn, but she shifts in her seat and something bright near the floor catches his attention. He laughs and points to her feet. “You’re wearing yellow ducky slippers.”

“I’m stranded in an airport and my comfortable shoes were ruined a few days ago. So I was forced to wear heels today. Just couldn’t stand it any longer.”

“Ouch. That may be a worse fate than public Tinder rejection.” When Katniss laughs, Peeta can feel more of the tension leave him. Like maybe next time they run into one another, if there is a next time, it won’t be awkward. Maybe Katniss will smile at him first before she scowls.

“I think it might be.”

Before Peeta can ask another question to keep her here, the bill arrives. He’s quick to grab it, handing it back to the server with his card before she can even step away from the table. He shakes his head at Katniss’ feeble protests. Something dark crosses her eyes then and Peeta bites back a sigh, knowing that once again, he’s somehow offended her. And that he has to let her go. Walk away and hope that maybe one day their paths will cross again.

“I got this. Seriously, Katniss.”

“But I swiped left, not you.”

“You listened,” Peeta says as the bill returns. He signs and adds the tip. Her eyes watch him and for one second, their gazes meet over the bill. “You listened like a friend would, even after I was kind of a jerk. Besides, it’s done now.”

She purses her lips and nods, making Peeta wonder, desperately, what’s going on in her head. It’s a heady and dangerous feeling being this close to the girl he had a massive unrequited crush on all through grade school. Which is why he knows he needs to get as far away from her as possible, right now, before he does something stupid to muck it up. He’s a fucking mess right now, painfully aware of that fact, and just smart enough to know that he doesn’t want to drag Katniss into his mess. Not that she would venture into his life right now beyond today -- she did swipe left, after all. It's just that Peeta doesn’t even want to be tempted into hoping. Right now, such a thing might break him completely. So he tries for a smile and grabs his bag.

“It was really great catching up with you, Katniss. Safe travels.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She watches his back as he retreats into the crowd, her hands gripping the seat of her chair to keep herself from chasing after him. It’s a strange sensation this, watching as Peeta Mellark walks away from her. The sensation is both new and familiar, wholly unpleasant. She grits her teeth and reminds herself that she is in no place to be starting a relationship, and he definitely isn’t in a place to be starting one.

“Who said anything about a relationship?” she asks the air and then scowls at the lady at the next table over who eyes her like she must be mad. Maybe she is, but somewhere in the midst of talking to him, she started to replay images from prom in her mind, only they were all wrong. They were…. soft and happy. And it was Peeta holding her while they swayed more than danced. Peeta’s fingers tucking her hair behind her ear. She daydreamed an entire montage of could have beens while they were talking, and it didn’t stop at regrets either.

He may be tired and beaten down, but there’s no disguising the warmth, the intelligence, the kindness and humor that’s always lived in his eyes. The generosity he wields with such ease. She couldn’t help but notice the more than generous tip he left for their waitress. Even when he’s at his worst, he still manages to be kind. Even when they were kids. People like that are her weakness. Always have been. Probably always will be.

She grips tighter to her seat and berates herself with no real goal or direction. Her reasons for staying put all contradict one another until it’s too late anyways.

With Peeta safely blended into the crowds, Katniss grabs her bag and shoulders it. She smiles slightly at her yellow ducky slippers then begins the trek, hoofing it back to her gate. 

Before she can even reach it, her phone chimes with a notification. She slows her walk to dig the phone from her bag and groans audibly at the notification that her flight has been cancelled. Automatically, her eyes lift to the windows where the first flurries of a major snow storm have begun to fall.

Now she’ll have to race to get a hotel room or sleep on an airport couch. Her slippers slide on the tile as she jogs towards her gate. As she arrives, a crackling announcement explaining that all flights out are grounded due to the weather inbound here and already impacting all of their divert fields. Baggage will be kept secure overnight at the airport, and please see a desk agent for a hotel.

Joining the line, Katniss starts texting home to let everyone know what’s happening. She steps forward one place at a time, all the tension that magically seeped out of her body during her lunch with Peeta now returning until her shoulders are stiff and her lower back begins to ache.

“Hey, fancy seeing you here,” a voice next to her elbow says and she whips her head up to face Peeta.

“Hey. You stuck here too?”

“Yep. I think that seals it as the worst honeymoon in history.” Katniss can’t help but laugh and shake her head.

“Did you at least find a hotel?”

“I did. You?”

“Not yet,” Katniss says just as someone in front of her scoffs loudly.

“What do you mean there aren’t any rooms available?”

Katniss feels the tension mounting in her body as her stomach sinks. The grumbling crowd gets louder over the shouting match that’s beginning at the front of the line.

“You gonna be okay?” Peeta asks her and she nods.

“Sure. Who doesn’t love sleeping on airport sofas with a couple hundred of your closest strangers?” Peeta chuckles and opens his mouth to say something then snaps it shut. She shifts her bag and her tired feet before he speaks again.

“Okay this isn’t the greatest offer in the world, given our brief but tumultuous dating history—” he pauses to smile as Katniss snorts “—but would you want to split a room with me?”

“You don’t have to do that, Peeta,” she shakes her head, thinking of that lunch bill and everything else that he’s been through lately and how she knows she won’t be good company tonight.

“Actually, I think I need to or I might go insane.” Katniss’ brow wrinkles at this, which is all the prompting he needs to explain. “I meant it when I said this isn’t a great offer. The room I managed to get…it’s the room I’ve been staying in for the past week.”

“Your honeymoon suite?” Katniss hears herself asking in a weird, detached, almost robotic manner.

“Yeah, as if it weren’t already awkward enough between us, here I am suggesting we skip any real dates and go right to the honeymoon suite.”

She laughs. She can’t help it. The whole situation is just too ridiculous. Besides, she’s pretty confident he was trying to make her laugh. His cheeks pinken slightly and that shy smile of his she’s starting to enjoy seeing makes a reappearance.

“And truthfully, if I have to stay another night in it alone, I might go  _ The Shining  _ or something.”

“That’s not exactly a glowing recommendation for me sharing it with you. What if you go  _ The Shining _ even with me there?”

“As I recall, you can take pretty good care of yourself,” Peeta says. Strange warmth fills her and she looks back at the line, shifting and grumbling in discontent. “You can have the bed, no fight from me. I’ll take the couch. Trust me, I don’t want anywhere near that thing, for…reasons. I’ll even handcuff myself to the couch if that makes you feel better.”

“Okay,” she says, turning back to find him with his mouth hanging open as though he had more arguments to give her. She wonders what they were, but he snaps his lips together and stares at her in surprise.

“Really?”

“Sure. I mean, it’s just two acquaintances sharing a hotel room so they don’t have to sleep in the airport, right?”

“Right. Absolutely,” Peeta says emphatically.

“Then okay. Lead the way,” Katniss says, motioning in the general direction of the exit.


	2. Chapter 2

He must be going mad. That or he really did kill half his brain cells on his week long drinking bender.

What was he thinking, asking Katniss Everdeen to share a hotel room with him? If he was attempting to avoid temptation, he’s failing miserably.

A simple glance across the back seat of their Uber with Katniss frantically typing on her phone, responding to a rapid fire series of bells and chimes, sets him slightly at ease. Her brow is once again folded into a scowl, or perhaps a look of pure determination. At lunch, she sounded so put together. Business, successful career, family. Peeta can offer nothing to such a person, and so there’s no real temptation. Not that there would be, even if he did have half his shit together rather than none of it.

She swiped left, he reminds himself. She swiped left on one of the better pictures taken of him. Delly wouldn’t have used anything less than a picture that made Peeta look a thousand times more desirable than he really is.

He runs his tongue over his teeth again, the layer of fuzz a reminder of what’s transpired the past two weeks of his life. Yep, there is certainly no possibility that Katniss Everdeen would be the slightest bit interested in him.

Peeta is grateful, however, that in his haste to leave this morning, he forgot to check out of his room and it somehow miraculously wasn’t already booked by someone else for tonight. He’s also  _ really _ glad he told the hotel he would be stopping by a store first and made sure they’d have time to make up the room before he returns. A mental image of how he left the room that morning surfaces and he winces. Makes a note to leave a huge tip for the housekeeping crew when he checks out tomorrow morning. He would have done that anyways, but now it’s doubly important.

The car stops and Peeta steps out first, offering his hand and a little surprised when Katniss slides across the seat and takes it. She’s still typing one handed on her phone. As soon as she’s steady on her feet – she’s changed back to her heels so her slippers won’t get ruined in the snow, a fact that makes him smile – she releases his hand, adjusts the strap of her bag, and marches towards the door.

“Meet back here in about twenty?” she says, grabbing a cart and not looking back to check whether or not he agreed.

“Sure,” he tells no one and grabs a basket. He doesn’t need much. Just a few toiletries and maybe a fresh pair of underwear…something other than underwear to lounge about the hotel room in so he doesn’t give anyone the impression he’s a complete bum. The biggest bottle of mouthwash available. The store is practically empty and has that feeling, as though he’s slipped into a liminal space or another dimension. Time feels warped and he keeps checking his watch as he grabs toothpaste and a toothbrush, deodorant, mouthwash, debates and finally grabs a travel razor and shaving cream. He hasn’t shaved in a few days. It takes him a few minutes longer than he expects, since he’s able to easily find pants in his size, but not a shirt comfortable enough to sleep in. He winds up getting a pack of plain white t-shirts and then hurrying back towards the front of the store.

He makes it just as the cashier is scanning the last few of Katniss’ items. A bottle of bubble bath and a dark purple box… he leans to the side to catch another glimpse of it, certain he must be hallucinating things but Katniss sees him then.

“This room does have a nice tub, right?” Her question pulls his eyes up to hers.

“Yeah,” Peeta says, chagrined as he thinks of how much time he spent sitting in it while it was empty of water, with him fully dressed and drinking beer. Not exactly a romantic image.

“Good. I could use a long, relaxing soak,” she says and Peeta’s mind trips right off a ledge of self-pity into a soap and Katniss filled tub.

By the time he shakes himself out of his thirty second, impossible and highly inappropriate mental porno, the purple box has disappeared. Already gone into the reusable shopping bag Katniss is holding open for the cashier.

“Thanks,” Katniss says as she grabs her credit card and the machine spits out her receipt. She steps aside as the girl rings up Peeta’s purchases and he pays. “Oh here.”

As he watches, Katniss produces another shopping bag, unfolding it from a two inch square of bright green and blue paisley, shaking it out and holding it for the cashier. One by one, Peeta’s things go into Katniss’ bag. She hands it to him while they wait for his card to go through and then the cashier winks at him.

“You two have a nice night. Stay warm during the storm.”

“We will,” Katniss says and slides her arm through Peeta’s, guiding him back outside in a daze.

“Did she…?”

“Think we were together? I believe so,” Katniss says and then stands on her toes in the snow to kiss Peeta on his jaw.

His starved for affection body responds and his cock twitches in his pants. Fuck. No. Now you wanna make an appearance? He wants to ask, but he figures it might be a bit strange to talk to his dick in front of an old high school acquaintance he hasn’t seen in ten years.

He must be staring, though, because Katniss shrugs and waves at their Uber driver, who circles back around the lot to get them.

“She seemed into the idea of us as a couple, so I figure why not give her a warm fuzzy while she’s stuck working here in a snowstorm, right?”

“Okay,” Peeta says uncertainly instead of asking her the question most pressing on his mind right now.

_ Did you really just buy bubble bath and condoms or am I imagining things? _

Since he’s pretty sure that question might constitute harassment, or at the very least, stupidity, he swallows it down and follows Katniss back into the car.

Maybe he should get drunk again, just to survive this night…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the car, Katniss clutches her shopping bag filled with items she can’t even account for purchasing. Shaving gel and a razor? A scented lotion? A lacy pair of panties? Condoms??? What on earth is she planning on doing with those things? It’s not like this is  _ her  _ honeymoon, she thinks as she glances nervously at her companion for the night.

He’s gone silent again and for some reason, this disturbs her. She bites her lip and admits that she really liked talking to him at lunch. Admits that the feeling she felt when he left her at the table was disappointment, and the feeling she felt when she saw him again was something akin to relief, and not just because of his offer for a hotel room to stay in tonight.

But condoms?

The bubble bath is at least justifiable, since she’s been stuck in the airport half the day and had a stressful week to boot. It would be a shame to not put this fancy hotel room to good use after Peeta so generously offered to share it with her.

But  _ condoms _ ?!

In the hotel lobby, she’s still clutching her shopping bag closed, as though if she allows even the slightest opening at the top, Peeta will see what she bought and…

And what exactly? Know that she’s still attracted to him, even after ten years and the awkward way things unraveled between them before they even had a chance to begin?

She bites the inside of her cheek. She hurt him enough in high school, and she knows he’s fresh off a failed engagement. They’re about to share what would have been his  _ honeymoon _ suite, a fact reinforced by the desk clerk welcoming him back with a bright smile and a pleased look in Katniss’ direction.

“We’re happy to have you for another night! Would you and Mrs. Mellark want a bottle of champagne tonight?”

“Uh,” Peeta falters and Katniss steps forward, a crazed reply leaving her lips.

“Yes!” They both stare at her for a moment and her face feels like it’s cracking as she smiles at Peeta. “Yes, honey. A bubble bath and champagne sounds wonderful, don’t you think?”

“I’ll have that sent up right away!” The desk clerk chirps and Peeta looks away to hand over his credit card. “No need, Mr. Mellark. I have your record right here. I’ll just add it to your room, if that’s all right. Strawberries with the champagne?”

“Sure, why not,” Peeta says as he pockets his wallet.

“Excellent. If you still have your card key, then the room is all cleaned and ready!”

Peeta thanks her again. He rests one hand on Katniss’ back and motions towards the elevators. It’s a little too easy, leaning back into his hand and letting him guide her across the lobby. A little too easy to forget that the man in the elevator with her, the one who drops all pretense as soon as the doors close, is a relative stranger. A little too easy to forget that just two weeks ago, he was engaged and probably excited to be getting married to someone named Rebecca. A Rebecca who Katniss has never even seen, let alone met. What if she’s a bombshell? She’s probably a bombshell.

It’s too easy to hate her, this Rebecca, because she had him and threw him away. It’s far too easy to hate a complete stranger, especially when Peeta leans back against the elevator walls, his head resting on the brocade covered surface with his eyes shut. He looks so tired. So worn out, and Katniss resists the urge to reach out and brush back his wayward locks of hair.

She’s willing to bet that he looks devastating in a tux or a suit, all cleaned up and polished. He did in high school and he’s only gotten better with age. How the hell did this Rebecca walk away from him? Katniss wonders. Maybe he’s a shitty lover.

The bell chimes and Peeta opens his eyes, motions Katniss off the carriage while she chastises herself for thinking such things.

Until they reach the room.

Peeta flicks on the lights and her jaw drops at the sight of the massive four poster bed, the piles of plush pillows and the inviting duvet. It even has heavy drapes, tied back with rosy velvet ties, and a pair of mints nestled on the pillow. It’s a dream suite for a hopeless romantic, the picture perfect honeymoon.

She laughs, four quick notes before she stifles it and finds Peeta watching her.

“I’ll take the couch,” he reiterates and drops his bags on the blue and white striped thing. It’s oversized and just as plush as the bed. “Actually…I think I’ll get a quick shower, if that’s okay?”

“Sure,” Katniss says with a shrug, wandering around the room and feigning indifference. “Then maybe some dinner. The restaurant downstairs looked good.”

She pauses and looks to him for confirmation and he shakes his head, hands busy gathering whatever he’s going to need for his shower. “I wouldn’t know. I didn’t eat there.”

“What did you do here for a whole week?”

“Honestly…tried to forget,” Peeta says and moves towards the bathroom. That’s when Katniss notices that his gait is uneven.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When the shower water starts running, Katniss starts counting in a desperate attempt to not picture Peeta standing naked in the water with steam floating around his body. She’s made it to sixty-nine when she hears the sound of a glass shower door shutting. Her fingers unlock her phone in an instant and she calls the only person she can think of who could possibly be helpful in this situation.

“Hey Brainless, how’s Colorado Springs?”

“Jo, I need your help.”

“Well that ain’t new, but I’m shocked you’re admitting it.”

“Just shut up and listen before I change my mind,” Katniss says and launches immediately into an explanation. “I’m stuck here because of the weather. The meetings went awful. We lost the Heavensbee contract, I’m probably going to have to furlough some of my employees, and then in the airport today…oh my god it’s like a comedy of errors.” She spills the story as fast as she’s able, all while Johanna listens intently. Since Katniss has no idea how quickly Peeta can take a shower, she’s practically rambling. “And worse than him seeing me swipe left, Jo I know him. We went to high school together. I didn’t realize it was his profile until after I’d swiped left and we started talking. And, he actually recognized me first!”

“Damn, Kat. You really knocked this guy’s ego down a peg or two.”

“You have no idea,” Katniss mutters then explains about Rebecca and how this trip was supposed to be Peeta’s honeymoon, and the Tinder profile being Delly’s subsequent idea of confidence boosting for him.

“Damn,” Johanna says again. “That backfired spectacularly.”

“I’m not done yet. Jo…this is  _ the guy _ from high school. The one who asked me to Prom through those Valentine flower grams?”

“Shit,” Johanna whistles. “No wonder you’re calling me. You didn’t just knock him down a peg, you shoved him off the fucking ladder.”

“Not helping.”

“Okay how’s this for help. Are you stupid? Why are you staying in a hotel with this guy? In a strange city that’s about to be schwacked with snowpocalyse. If he carries a grudge, he’s liable to do something awful to you!”

“He’s not…Peeta’s not like that. He doesn’t carry grudges,” Katniss mutters and then bites her lip, mentally filling in the silence with what she knows Johanna is thinking. How could Katniss possibly know him well enough to make that judgement. She finds herself telling Johanna a handful of stories she remembers from high school, nervously glancing at the bathroom door until she doesn’t dare risk a minute longer of reliving why she had such a huge crush on him. “He’s always been so sweet and kind and generous and  _ humble _ , you know? And anyways, everyone knows where I am. I sent the hotel address and phone number to Mom and Prim and Gale. I’ll send it to you too.”

“Okay, good, soooo, I gotta say you still need to be on your guard, but it sounds like you’re aware and have this somewhat under control. So why’re you really calling me if not to hear that this wasn’t the best choice ever?”

“Because,” Katniss pinches the bridge of her nose and squeezes her eyes shut. “Because we stopped at a store to pick up provisions, toothpaste and things and I,” she has to swallow before whispering the dirty truth. “I bought condoms.”

“No. Fucking. Way.”

“What do I do?”

“Use them, Brainless.”

“But you just said—”

“Forget what I just said. The condoms purchase is new and vital information here. You rejected this guy in high school—”

“Not intentionally!” Katniss shouts and then covers her mouth, worried that maybe Peeta heard her. The water has stopped and she shifts her feet to deal with the mental movie playing in her head of Peeta toweling off, stray drops of water clinging to those broad shoulders, his glasses all fogged up on his face and his hair an adorable damp mop of curls. Thankfully, he doesn’t emerge and the sink water starts running as Johanna forges onward.

“Then you reject him essentially to his face on Tinder today. He got cheated on and dumped three days before his wedding and has spent the last week living a constant reminder of that. Now you’re staying overnight with him in his honeymoon suite… quick question. Is the room fabulous?”

“Gorgeous,” Katniss moans. “The bed is just… I’m gonna have to take a picture of it and send it to you. It’s so pretty.”

“God you’re weird. Okay, back to what I was getting at...you’re obsessed with the bed and you bought condoms. It’s pretty obvious to me. You want to bang him, don’t you?”

Katniss stands there with her hand over her mouth, unable to speak. Is that what she wants?

“What’s he doing right now?” Johanna asks.

“Taking a shower,” Katniss mumbles through her fingers and Johanna laughs.

“And you’re picturing him naked aren’t you?”

“Kinda hard not to,” Katniss says. “Unrequited high school crush, remember? And he’s hot oh my god Jo his  _ arms _ .”

“Cool it for a second, Brainless. Let’s work through this. First of all, given that  _ he _ asked  _ you _ to your senior prom, I seriously doubt that your crush was unrequited.”

Katniss’ eyes jump to the bathroom door and her ears go fuzzy for a moment. Peeta liked her too? How come she never made that connection? How come he never  _ said _ anything? If it’s true, then she feels even worse for what happened.

“Okay Kat, I feel like I’m losing you here. Do me a favor. Take a deep breath and close your eyes.” Katniss does as Johanna suggests, even though she knows that Jo has slipped into psychoanalysis mode and Katniss has always hated it whenever Johanna does this. Mainly because Johanna has a knack for unearthing the truths Katniss doesn’t want to admit about herself.

“Alright. You’re unable to get home, but you have a comfortable place to stay. You’ve had a trying week, but you’re ready to relax. You have a companion, but you’re not sure where you stand with him. Deep breath and then tell me what you see.”

Bubbles. Laughter. Sparkling champagne. The tart burst of fresh strawberries on her tongue. Lips tracking a trail of bubbles up and up her leg. A wave of water and then blue eyes smiling down at her. Descending towards her as their entwined bodies move in harmony. Her leg draped over the edge of the tub and Peeta’s naked skin slick and warm beneath her hands-- 

“Damn it. I want to bang him.”

“Good girl. You’ve been in need of a thorough banging for a while. There's no reason why you can’t scratch this itch as long as you’re smart about it. I prescribe at least one good orgasm and then call me in the morning.”

“What if he says no?” Katniss asks, sudden tears springing to her eyes, a lump forming in her throat.

“Kat…honey. He’s not going to say no. I can almost guarantee that. But he might need you to be blunt about this. No subtlety. Strip naked if you have to, but given what he’s gone through lately, if he’s anything like the person you’ve been describing to me, he’s going to want, to  _ need _ , an unequivocal ‘Fuck Me Now’ sign from you. Think you can manage that?”

“I bought condoms,” Katniss groans out as an explanation, stunned and a little embarrassed.

“Yes, you did. Because you’re a big girl who deserves to get fucked hoarse and dumb. So drop them in his lap if you have to.”

“Jo,” Katniss says in a wavering voice. “I don’t know if I can do this. What if he gets clingy or weird afterwards?”

“Kitty Kat, as always with my advice, be smart about it. If he does get weird, then walk away. But you know… that’s probably the only reason you should walk away from him first okay?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I know you and how uncomfortable you get over shit like this. If you do the walking away in this case, it. Could. Destroy. Him… Completely. He’s in a fragile place right now.  _ You  _ are in the position of strength. Just keep that in mind. Go after what you want, make sure the signs are impossible to misinterpret, and make it clear that this is about the sex only. A one night stand, scratching the itch, etc. And then let  _ him _ leave  _ you _ .”

“Okay,” Katniss whispers, tilting her head side to side like she would before an archery competition or a karate match. “Okay, I can do this.”

“I know you can. Now go have fun and don’t be stupid.”

“I love you, too,” Katniss says and hangs up with a smile on her face.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He’s going insane.

Peeta sits on the couch and bounces his knee, groaning inwardly as the sweet, soft sound of Katniss singing fills the suite. He’s picturing her in that tub again. That massive tub that he could easily fit in with her. Soapy bubbles gliding over her skin. Her hair piled up on her head and curling in the steam from the bath. The water lapping at her breasts, showcasing her shoulders and neck.

“Fuck me,” he groans quietly and finally turns on the TV to drown out the sounds. Her voice hasn’t changed a whole lot, maybe dropped slightly. Developed a sensuality he swears wasn’t there when they were kids.

He should not be thinking about her sexually. Not after the whole Tinder rejection and his promise to her that he didn’t expect a thing in return for letting her stay here. He was engaged to someone else less than two weeks ago. But now he’s reliving puberty and every shameful, dirty fantasy he had about the woman now in his hotel room. Naked. Soapy. Singing happily in the tub. Sexy as fuck. He’s such a bastard.

“News,” he says to himself and finds what looks like the most depressing news story imaginable to kill whatever lust is thrumming through his veins right now.

The massive bed across the room is taunting him with should have beens. This should have been his honeymoon. He should have been so thoroughly fucked at this point -- in the physical sense not the metaphorical -- that he wouldn’t even think twice about a soapy, naked Katniss in his tub.

He turns up the volume and bounces his knee to hide the sudden screaming in his mind and his groin. The lies and the truths bombarding him from all sides as he runs a hand through his hair. Eyes fixed to the TV and brain fixed on Katniss. He’d thought he’d outgrown her. Moved on. It was just a high school crush.

So why is he fantasizing about pinning her to this couch and feasting between her thighs, hearing her pant his name in desire, then scream it in release.

“That’s really loud,” Katniss says, making Peeta jump. He mutes it and turns to face her.

“So dinner,” he says and stands.

Shit. His jaw starts to drop and he has to snap it shut before he looks like more of an idiot than he already does. Katniss is standing there, in those airport purchased slippers and one of the suite’s fluffy bathrobes. Her hair is in a loose braid instead of the severe bun from the airport. It’s damp, making it darker, closer to her natural shade. A few loose tendrils are already dry and frame her face, which is now clear of any makeup. She looks so much more like the girl he remembers from high school that his chest tightens.

She clutches her clothes she was wearing earlier in her hands, a tiny bit of hot pink bra peeking out of the pile.

Double shit.

He swallows and runs his hand through his hair again as she shifts her weight from one foot to the other.

“Would you be mad if I just ordered room service? These are kinda gross and I forgot to buy a spare outfit or pajamas at the store. I’ll pay for it,” she says. 

But she bought condoms…

Peeta cuts off that thought, certain that he must have seen the item incorrectly. Why would she buy condoms and not something to sleep in? Maybe they were tampons. Now  _ that  _ would make sense. Here she is buying tampons and bubble bath, hoping to just relax her sore and tired body after a frustrating and fruitless day at the airport, to soothe her cramps, and he’s the jerk thinking maybe he’ll get lucky. She’s just another woman who doesn’t want Peeta. Why should she want him?

… Then again, he’s pretty sure he saw the words “ribbed” and “lubricated” on that box. Tampons aren’t ribbed… are they? He can’t remember right now.

Peeta swallows, now certain that this was the worst idea he’s had in the past twenty-four hours.

“Yeah, that’s fine,” he answers her about the room service.

“Great,” Katniss says with relief in her voice. “Do they have an overnight laundry service? I’m gonna have to wear these tomorrow.”

She lifts her pile of clothes and Peeta points towards the closet where the bags are hanging.

“Great,” Katniss says again. “Do you want me to send your things down too?”

“What? Sure,” Peeta chokes out and quickly scoops up his pile of dirty laundry.

“Oh, maybe I should wait until you get back from the restaurant… unless… unless you just want to get room service with me.”

Peeta glances down at the pajamas he put on after his shower without even thinking.

“Yeah that’s...that’s probably better. I don’t think I meet the dress code in PJ pants.”

Katniss smiles at him and snatches his clothes, stuffing everything into the same bag and filling out the tag before opening the door. Peeta tries not to think about how her bra is in the same general proximity as his underwear. They’re just  _ clothes _ , after all.

“Hey, where’s that champagne?” she asks and Peeta once again points, this time towards the cart they brought up while she was in the tub. “Oh, nice.”

She finds the room service menu and sets it on the cart, eyes skimming over it as she unwraps the foil from the champagne and removes the cap. With surprisingly deft hands, she pops the cork. They both jump at the noise.

“Aw,” she says in clear disappointment. “I was hoping for at least a little spray of champagne when I opened it.”

Peeta can’t help but smile at her cheery optimism and almost childish joy as she snuggles into the robe, appreciating all the fine things Peeta had planned for his honeymoon. Things that Rebecca didn’t want from him. The strange thought propels him back to his feet and across the room.

“Here,” he offers, taking the bottle from Katniss. “I’ll pour, you order us some food.”

“Don’t you want to pick something out for yourself?”

“I trust your judgement,” Peeta shrugs and carefully pours the champagne, keeping his hands busy so he doesn’t scoop her up and carry her to the bed. Doesn’t try something stupid like thinking she might actually want to have sex with him.

“Hm, I promise a decadent meal in that case.” Peeta ignores that, even though his jaw and his dick twitch at what his brain hears as a sensual promise.

He’s done enough stupid things in the past two weeks. Adding a one night stand with his unrequited high school crush would just exacerbate the whole situation and make it that much harder to deal with his heartbreak.

She’s already on the phone, calling in their order, when he hands her the glass of champagne. Then he carries the bucket of ice with the bottle in it and the strawberries in front of the TV, spreading out a blanket on the floor on a whim.

“Picnic. I like the way you think,” Katniss says. She places one hand on his bicep and squeezes as she leans around him to get her hands on the remote. Her robe gapes open slightly and Peeta tears his eyes away from the sliver of breast and nipple that peeks out at him.

She’s here to finish him off. That’s what this is. He’s not certain what exactly he did so wrong in life for Karma to come after him so brutally, but come for him it has.

Katniss settles on the blanket and sucks a strawberry into her mouth. “Enough news. We need some comedy.”

Peeta carefully lowers himself to the blanket, as far from Katniss as he can get. She doesn’t seem to notice his distance, too absorbed in finding something for them to watch. He manages to position himself so the half erection he’s sporting isn’t visible. While he stares at the screen, his mind isn’t on the movie she picks.

It’s on her laughter. The softness of her singing voice. The complete change from the woman who was glaring at him in the airport to this soft, gentle creature in a fluffy robe and slippers.

Dinner arrives and he answers the door so she doesn’t have to in her robe. “Thanks,” she says as he presents her with a dish of delicious looking lamb stew on a bed of rice and dotted with dried plums. Savory rolls and fresh greens. His mouth waters and he can’t remember the last time he was this intrigued or interested in a meal. The last time his nose and taste buds perked at the possibility.

She takes a tentative bite and moans around her spoon. The sound lands in his crotch and Peeta looks away from the expression of utter delight on her face. Away from the porno reel playing in his head.

It’s an impossibility so he focuses on the food. One bite at a time. He hums his approval and keeps eating. It really is very good, but he still can’t focus on the movie.

“Okay, I can’t do silent meals. We have to talk about something,” Katniss says and Peeta glances over at her as she takes another sip of champagne, draining the glass and then holding it out for him to refill.

“Alright, what do you want to talk about?” he asks.

“You mentioned Delly. Tell me about her.” Peeta releases a relieved breath. Talking about Delly is easy. Safe. He refills her glass. Words start to tumble from his mouth and as they do, he relaxes. More words and then more as he tells Katniss about his best friend and then his nieces and his brothers. Katniss laughs and asks questions in all the right places. More than that, she seems genuinely interested in what he has to say, about the bakery and how it’s a constant fight trying to drag his parents and their business models into this century. About the frustrations of opening a new branch in New Jersey rather than New York where his parents wanted to go but couldn’t afford. About the wedding cakes he designs…

He trails off and stares at his empty plate as it sinks in, the fact that he’s not getting married. Everything he bought to make their wedding cake is probably still sitting in the bakery, some of it already gone bad. More idiotic words leave his mouth.

“It’s funny, you know. I was ready. So ready to settle down with someone I loved unconditionally, and who loved me unconditionally...turns out there’s no such thing as unconditional love for me.”

“Hm, well it makes sense and it’s not a bad thing to have some conditions on what we call love. Fidelity is a big condition after all,” Katniss says and he lifts his eyes to her as she crawls towards him and ladles more of the stew into his bowl.

“Katniss,” he whispers and she leans forward, her lips brushing over his. His heart stops for a second and he grips tight to the bowl of stew in his hands, half expecting to drop it in her lap and burn her, to ruin the moment. “What are you...?”

“There don’t have to be conditions if we both know it’s not love,” she says and then sits back away from him, her hand trailing over his thigh.

“I don’t want a pity fuck,” he blurts out.

“Never said I pitied you,” Katniss murmurs before spooning more of the stew into her mouth.

They’re silent after that, quietly eating dinner. Then dessert, a delicious goat cheese and apple tart. At the end of it, Peeta is full. He’s full and feels more alive than he has in weeks. He nudges Katniss in the side then, knowing that it’s all due to her.

“Hey,” he says and she smiles at him.

“Hey yourself.”

“I talked about myself for about an hour and still hardly know a thing about you.”

“Then you weren’t listening at lunch,” she says with a smirk and a wave of a full, plump red strawberry. Peeta shakes his head, his finger tips tingling as she once more offers up her glass for a refill and he obliges.

“No, I remember everything you said. But that’s only a small fraction of who you are. I mean like...the deep stuff.”

“But we just met,” Katniss says and bats her eyelashes comically at him. He laughs and she grins then shimmies slightly so that she’s laying down, her head is in his lap as she chews on the strawberry. Her robe rides up her legs quite a bit, revealing smooth, toned thighs. A picture of those thighs wrapped around his head leaps into Peeta’s brain and his hand shakes as he moves it to stroke through her hair.

“That feels nice. Don’t stop. So what do you want to know?” Katniss asks.

“Okay hmmm… favorite color.”

“Peeta Mellark!” She gasps and looks up at him with laughter in her eyes. But she answers anyways. “Green. You?”

“Orange.” Katniss wrinkles her nose and he smiles before clarifying. “Soft orange, like a sunset.”

“Oh my god why am I not surprised. What else do you want to know?”

“How do you take your tea?”

“Lots of sugar,” she answers. “You?”

“Usually just milk,” he says and she smirks.

“More sweet things for me then. Ask me another one.”

So he does, he keeps asking the hundred thousand questions that he’s always wanted to know about her. Her favorite movie, favorite song, comfort activity, how she likes to spend a weekend off, best memory, worst memory…

“The easy answer would be losing my dad,” Katniss says and Peeta sobers, an awful feeling filling him as Katniss looks up at him with wide gray eyes. “Because it just...hurt so much. And Mom struggled with depression. It… it took all of us to get through that.”

“I’m sorry for bringing up painful memories,” Peeta says and Katniss nods but then she sits up and stares at him.

“I’m kind of tired. I think I’m going to move to the bed. You should think about going to bed too.”

“Alright,” he murmurs and watches as she stands and heads over to the massive bed. Once she’s flopped onto it and out of his reach, he stands up and starts dealing with their dirty dishes.

“This bed is ridiculous,” she says and Peeta chuckles. “You didn’t try it out even once?”

“Who would I have tried it out with?” he asks and almost immediately slaps his own forehead.

“We’ll have to fix that,” Katniss says behind him. Or maybe his brain is imagining her saying that, because when he turns back around to face her after pushing the room service cart into the hallway and ringing for collection, she’s not even looking at him. She’s curled up on the bed with a happy smile on her face and her eyes closed.

When he sits on the couch, her eyes fly open and hone in on him.

“You're turn.”

“My turn? For what?”

“To answer a question.”

“Okay,” Peeta says with a smile.

“How do you like to be kissed?” she asks and rolls over onto her stomach, kicking her feet up into the air. All the breath leaves Peeta’s lungs as he stares at her… she can’t mean that.

“I don’t...I don’t think you should ask me that right now.”

“Alright, then you can reciprocate. Worst memory.”

“I’m gonna have to go with finding out that my fiancée was sleeping with my best man.”

“Tell me about them,” Katniss says, propping her head on her hand.

“You really wanna hear?”

“Yes, I really wanna hear, Peeta. And I get the feeling that you really need to talk about it.”

“I’m fine--”

“Peeta,” she snaps at him and he sighs, scrubbing a hand through his hair and taking a deep breath. “So my friend Johanna is a therapist. She jokes that she’s a head doctor but anyways, she’s really good at it, and she says that sometimes the reason people can talk to her about things they can’t talk to their friends or their spouses about is because she’s not a risk. She can’t hurt them.”

“Are you suggesting that you can’t hurt me?”

“I’m suggesting that I don’t want to hurt you. And that if you were being honest about us never having to speak ever again after this, then yes. I am not a risk.”

That’s the biggest lie he’s heard all day, but Peeta can’t help feeling the words jam up in his throat, threatening to spill. What better way to ensure Katniss will be astronomically out of his league than telling her in brutal detail just how pathetic he really is.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He tells her. All of it. 

Katniss hadn’t been expecting him to open up so easily or so quickly to her. She knows that she never could do something like that, but maybe Peeta is just that desperate to talk to someone. So he talks, and she listens, hanging on every awful word and anecdote he shares.

How his and Rebecca’s sex life went cold first. How he kept saying it was the stress leading up to their wedding. Convincing himself that everything would be better once they got married. How then her demands started to become impossible to meet as Peeta threw himself into making sure everything was perfect and she was relaxed. Happy.

How then she suddenly warmed back up to him and everything seemed okay. How he surprised her with reservations to their favorite restaurant, planned out the whole night, hoping to rekindle the flame, to forget the wedding planning for just one night and get back to what made them fall in love. He tells her that he can still see the expression on Rebecca’s face when she told him they were through. That she’d been sleeping with Evan, one of his closest friends and his best man, for over a month and that the recent warming was because she felt guilty about cheating on him… but also that she couldn't marry Peeta. How in hindsight, he’s seeing things he ignored or didn’t notice long before things went cold between them sexually. He describes it in painful detail that explains what he meant when he told Katniss he’d been trying to forget. 

_ “He makes me happy in a way you can’t. I can’t live with your need to make everything perfect.” _

For the first time in her life, Katniss contemplates murder when he delivers Rebecca’s break up line. She watches Peeta, his shoulders sloped in defeat. In...acceptance and belief.

“The funny thing is, she was right,” Peeta says and looks up at Katniss. “It was my need to be perfect. I was convinced that if I was anything less than perfect...she wouldn’t love me as much. Wouldn’t...want me. That no one would.”

Her heart aches for him. No wonder he looked like absolute shit in the airport. He looks better now, refreshed with a shower, his face shaved, and a decent meal in his system. Now he needs some good sleep. And maybe a little something else. Her body aches for him even more so than her heart. She wonders if Johanna is right and she has a kicked puppy dog kink or something, because she’s having a hard time keeping the robe on her body. She grips the sheets beneath her and waits for the tension of confessions to abate.

She watches Peeta swallow and makes up her mind. 

Both of them need this. They need to get lost in something raw and physical. Like crying your eyes out or screaming to the void. Dumping your heart onto a practical stranger. Fucking their brains out. She plucks at the duvet and thinks about what Johanna said to her. About how Peeta would need unequivocal signs. He hasn’t picked up on her subtle attempts at flirting, or if he has, he’s dismissed them.

Maybe he doesn’t want her.

But before she can latch onto that and believe it, she shifts and his eyes dip to her cleavage. He swallows and looks away as though his eyes are burning.

Hope and renewed desire surge through her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Peeta tells himself to stop looking down her robe like a pervert as he looks anywhere but at Katniss. She couldn’t possibly be sending the signals he thinks she’s sending. He’s imagining them. Fooling himself into thinking he has a chance at such an implausible thing as Katniss Everdeen actually wanting to sleep with him. He swallows down his pride and glances back over at her. She’s sitting up again and her robe is precarious on her body at best.

It’s a damn nightmare.

“What are you thinking?” he whispers, but she still hears him.

“That you should be having wild sex up here right now.” Katniss declares, laying back and spreading her limbs then bringing them back to her body, as though she’s making a snow angel in the sheets. Would she make real snow angels outside? If it weren’t a blizzard out there right now? It’s such a sweet picture, somehow wholesome and utterly fucking dirty. Her enjoyment of the bed is inspiring, intoxicating and seductive. She makes him  _ almost _ forget.

Almost.

But the snow angel image also makes him think about how he and Rebecca were supposed to go up into the mountains and try skiing on their honeymoon, and Peeta never once left the hotel building.

“I mean,” Katniss continues, clearly still tipsy from the champagne she drank all through and after dinner. “If you’d been here with Rebecca, that wouldn’t have changed the weather. Your flight home still would have been cancelled and you’d still be here for another night. Another chance to have unbridled, passionate sex in this confection of a bed.”

But then you wouldn’t be here, Peeta thinks. 

That feels too much like a betrayal of some kind, even though that is a paradox in and of itself. How could he possibly betray Rebecca  _ after _ she betrayed him so completely? He keeps those thoughts to himself and focuses on the woman in his bed. No…not his bed, the bed where he should have had his honeymoon. Wild, unbridled, passionate honeymoon sex. Only in his mind, it’s not Rebecca’s hair spread across the white sheets or twisted around his fist. It’s not Rebecca’s skin he imagines sliding against his, nor is it her legs wrapped around his imagination. Not her voice pleading in his mind’s ear. Not her pussy lips parting and quivering for his tongue. Peeta swallows and frantically redirects his thoughts.

“I never realized you were a poet.”

“Only when I’ve had champagne, Peeta Mellark. Or been kissed within an inch of my life.” 

Oh god, please help me, Peeta thinks, his brain now inundated with imaginings of her lips melded to his, her breathy moans caressing over his teeth, her tongue tangled with his. Katniss rolls over so that her head is hanging off the bed and he can almost see the shadows of her nipples. 

“I’m not drunk.”

“I never said you were,” he chokes out.

“Good. Because I don’t want you using it as an excuse to do something dense.”

“I promise to be a complete gentleman,” he assures her.

She’s adorable when she’s like this. He can feel himself relaxing under the warmth of her joy. He wants to see more of it. Not her drunk or tipsy or whatever state of non-sobriety she’s in right now, just this relaxed, uninhibited version of Katniss.

“See, that’s exactly what I’m talking about.”

“What is?” he asks, having a hard time following the thread of conversation, the looping dirty thoughts in his brain and the exodus of blood from that vital organ to his groin is not helping.

“You’re being dense.”

“Am I?”

“Completely,” she asserts and then rises up onto her knees. “You should do it, you know. Fuck someone on this bed. No strings, no expectations, no conditions except everyone feeling  _ really _ good by the end of the night.”

He stares at her, certain he’s misunderstanding what sounds like a blatant invitation. When he doesn’t respond, Katniss lifts her hand and crooks one finger at him. His whole body pulls in her direction but he remains motionless, perhaps in shock.

“C’mere.”

“No,” he whispers the word, and the brief flash of hurt in her eyes almost undoes him, but he knows that he better stay right where he is.

“Why?” she whispers.

“Because,” is all he can manage from his spot on the couch. Because if he stands up, she’ll see that he’s not a complete gentleman at all. She’ll see that even though he just poured out the awful story of his failed engagement, he’s fully hard and eager to have that unbridled, passionate sex and turn the confection of a bed into a total mess.

With  _ her _ . With Katniss.

“Because why?”

“Just…because,” he says, the strain evident in his voice. But he can’t take another rejection or another woman so wholly disappointed in him. It might shatter him past repair.

“How did you stay in this place for a week, with this massive bed just begging to have people fuck away the days on top of it, and not go insane?”

“Who says I didn’t go insane?” Peeta groans and scrubs his face. Katniss gasps and when he looks over at her, she’s sitting up, one hand braced on the edge of the mattress and the other covering her mouth in shock.

“Peeta Mellark, did you… _ masturbate _ on your solo honeymoon?” She whispers the question in a voice full of feigned shock and then laughs.

“Actually no. I didn’t,” he confesses, and her giggles cut off in a look of absolute horror.

“Are you applying for sainthood or something? No one night stand, no angry trying to get over her by fucking your brains out...not even any self-love?”

“I was too drunk and too much of a mess to get hard,” he says, unable to keep the nasty bite out of his voice. It has the opposite effect of what he intends, as Katniss smiles at him, the expression almost wicked and undeniably sexy.

“But you’re sober right now.”

“Maybe.” 

“Don’t lie to me, Peeta Mellark.”

“Yes. I’m sober.” As soon as he says it, she rises from the bed, alluring and somehow steady on her feet.

“And now you’re thinking about it, aren’t you? Fucking in this bed.”

_ Yes. _

His chest constricts and he pushes out a lie. “Not…actively.”

Katniss shakes her head and clicks her tongue at him. He’s disappointed her already.

“I didn’t take you for a coward, Peeta Mellark,” she says and he smiles slightly at how she keeps using both his names, as though she’s reminding one of them or both of them of who he is. Would she use both if he got her to come? Fuck he hopes not. He imagines making her come so hard she can barely get out one name, let alone both. He licks his lips at the very thought of it and mentally scolds himself. He’s supposed to be nursing a broken heart, not thinking about wild sex with his every waking and sleeping pubescent fantasy. 

Her steps are slow and entrancing as she crosses the room towards him, weakening his resolve with every foot of space that disappears between them.

“I’d like to not be,” he murmurs and she smiles back at him.

“Good,” she says again and then swings one leg up, a little ungraceful as she plants herself in his lap, straddling him on the couch. Her robe slips completely off one shoulder and opens near the bottom to reveal dark orange lace panties. Fuck, how did she know? He wants to ask as he rips his eyes away from her body and up to her eyes, struggling to keep his promise to her.

Katniss’ eyes flare and darken as she settles on top of him, his hands hanging in the air off to the side of them, not touching her, as her weight rests squarely on his erection. She swivels her hips and they both gasp. No hiding it now.

Peeta swallows as they stare at one another. He flexes his fingers in the air as she combs hers through his hair, hoping she does something else soon before his thin strand of control snaps and he devours her.

“If you’re not a coward…then stop being a gentleman and show me how you like to be kissed.”

“Fuck,” Peeta murmurs and Katniss chuckles slightly right before her lips slide together with his.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_ Finally _ , Katniss thinks as Peeta’s hands still hover in the air off to the sides but his lips are soft and pliant beneath hers. He doesn’t push her away or stop the kiss. Slowly, one by one, he brings his hands to rest on her back, gentle and somehow soothing. She wouldn’t be surprised if he started giving her a massage even while she’s trying to seduce him into a wild fuck. 

She was starting to give up hope, starting to believe she’d read the signs at dinner and earlier all wrong. That she would have to seriously channel her inner Johanna and just drop the robe on the floor to get Peeta to take the hint. She hates begging, and really despises the idea of begging for sex, but that was her next tactic right after stripping naked and throwing the box of condoms at him.

Even now, she can feel him holding back.

Holding back…because he’s scared and hurting. Afraid he’s going to disappoint her, Katniss thinks. She despises the idea of faking it too, but in that moment, with Peeta only tentatively returning her kisses, Katniss knows she’ll fake whatever he needs her to fake to make him feel good. For now, she’s faking the confidence to say these things, dirty things she’s never said to anyone before. Things Johanna would be stunned and also weirdly proud of Katniss for saying.

Be blunt, demanding. Unequivocal.

“Peeta, touch me,” she whispers in between soft kisses. “I want you to touch me.”

He groans into her mouth. One hand slides up her back and cradles her neck while the other dips lower, down and then up beneath the hem of her robe, grasping hold of her ass and pulling her closer. She gasps slightly, surprised at the rough touch, the burst of pleasure from the hard rub of his cock against her clit. But Peeta tears their mouths apart.

“I’m sorry. I’ll --” Katniss rests a hand over his mouth to stop his apologies and sighs in exasperation.

“I’m not very good with talking about feelings, Peeta. But I am pretty good at getting what I want. And I get the sense you need me to be completely clear before we go any further. So just listen for a second and don’t apologize. Okay?”

“Okay,” he murmurs against her fingers. She takes a deep breath and steps off the cliff.

“I’ve never had a one night stand before. But I want to have one tonight. With you. I want you to carry me over to that bed and kiss me like you mean it, and then fuck me until neither of us can move. I don’t expect perfection. I actually expect a lot of imperfections and moments that will make one of us cringe tomorrow morning after we part ways, but I am not going to want to stop or hear a thousand apologies. My only condition is that we don’t stop until we’ve both come at least once. Any objections?”

“I’m an amputee.” 

Katniss leans away from him and stares at him. Blinks once. 

“And?”

“Just...wanted you to know that. In case it changes your mind.”

She slowly leans forward and whispers into his ear, “Did they cut off your dick, Peeta Mellark? Doesn’t feel that way.” Katniss closes her teeth around his earlobe and she grinds down into him, another round of delicious shivers wracking her body as she feels him twitch against her.

“Left leg,” he gasps out the two words as she sucks on his ear and his right foot starts bouncing, seemingly involuntarily. She smiles at how cute he is when he’s flustered.

“If you don’t wanna sleep with me, Peeta, then just say so. You won’t hurt my feelings.”

It will hurt her feelings, but she’s not admitting that to anyone but herself. She’s trying to be brave. He wants her or he doesn’t. He needs a good, refreshing, no strings fuck like she does, or he doesn’t. But she thinks he does.

He blinks up at her and slides his hand up off her neck and into her hair, pulling her slowly back towards his mouth as her lips twitch.

“Twice,” he says. 

“What?”

“If we’re doing this, I’m not stopping until I’ve made you come twice, Katniss.”

Warmth rushes to her core in the split second between his words and his lips on hers again. He tilts her head and moves his lips over hers in a steady rhythm. Slow. Firm. Deliberate. Determined. Katniss can’t help moaning into the kiss. Warmth morphs into unbearable heat as the pace of his mouth quickens and she clings to his shoulders. His fingers massage her scalp in time with his kisses, drawing the warmth up from her center, out to her extremities until she’s panting.

If he fucks like he kisses, Katniss isn’t sure she’ll want to stop at two orgasms.

Just when she’s ready to beg for his tongue in her mouth, his lips leave hers. She whimpers, even as his hand tilts her head back and he kisses along her jaw, up to her ear where he nibbles for a moment before kissing down the side of her neck. He kisses her collar bone, the hollow of her throat. He kisses down towards her breast then teasingly kisses away from them, up the other side of her neck. Katniss can’t stop rocking her hips over him, his right hand massaging her scalp, sending ripples of relaxing delight through her body. His left hand kneading her ass, heightening her desire, encouraging her to keep grinding on him.

“Don’t stop don’t stop please don’t stop kissing me,” she moans.

His lips find a sensitive spot beneath her ear and his tongue caresses her there until she feels boneless and coiled into a tight spring.

“You still wanna know how I like to be kissed?” He whispers to her and she shudders, his warm breath dancing over his saliva on her skin and sending shivers down her spine.

“Yes.”

He heaves them off the couch and walks across the room to the bed, Katniss clinging to him and her fingers twisted in his hair. They fall onto the bed, his weight pressing her into the depths, his warmth encompassing her entire body, and his mouth covering hers. He kisses her. Really kisses her. Slow and sensual, as though he wants nothing more in the world than to kiss her forever. His tongue dipping into her with each labored breath through her nose then retreating in cadence with her exhales.

He lifts his head and kisses her chin. Then her neck. His hand slides down her body, tugging at the tie that’s only holding her robe together in the loosest sense of the phrase. As his mouth returns to hers, his hand glides over her torso, pushing the robe out of his way.

“Slowly. Everywhere,” he murmurs to her lips, the words themselves kisses.

Katniss can’t stop moving. Can’t stop touching his hair, his cheeks, his chest through his thin white t-shirt. Her legs writhe against his, desperate for relief to the feeling building inside her, pressing against her chest from inside, aching between her thighs.

One broad palm skims up the side of her breast. His fingers skip around the globe, teasing her with the nearness to her areola as she strains beneath him, silently begging with her tongue against his to touch her. She whimpers as he keeps teasing her, kicking off her slippers and setting her feet on the backs of his calves.

She can feel the difference between his legs through his flannel pajama pants, but the need to feel more of him overwhelms her curiosity for the moment. She tries to turn away from the overwhelming kisses, to beg him for more. Faster. Harder.

He doesn’t let her turn away from their kisses.

The sweetness in his touch with the heat lurking just underneath, so close to combustion, threatens to undo her. She wants to dance naked in the flames of his love. Now. Five minutes ago. Five years ago. But Peeta persists in his leisurely pace, shifting his body so she can’t escape his gentle ministrations.

Katniss arches beneath him and claws at his scalp, the back of his neck. Her senses inundated with desire. Her brand new panties saturated with her need.

Then he withdraws his tongue, and his teeth capture her bottom lip just as his fingers capture her nipple. A simultaneous nip and pinch and Katniss bows on the bed, pressing her mound up against his erection, wordlessly pleading as pleasure and heat shoot through her body. He pulls back, taking lip and nipple with him, straining her flesh to their limit then releasing her.

Her body sings with the need, her throat vocalizes it in a strained wail.

“Fuck, Peeta,” she gasps. “Please.”

Her feet land on the mattress and she rubs herself up into him. He caresses her hair back away from her face and a soft shy smile plays about his lips.

“I take it you liked that?”

She can’t answer, her hand fumbling for the bedside drawer until she can snatch the box of condoms out of their hiding place, on top of the standard hotel Bible. The irony is not lost on her as she shoves the box into his chest.

Peeta’s hand comes up reflexively to take the box, his body lifting away from her as he glances down at it. For the first time since they started kissing, he smirks at her in a confident way and then tosses the box aside.

“What’re you…?” Katniss asks as he leaves the bed and hurries over to his carry on bag by the couch.

“Those won’t work,” he explains, searching through his bag, digging deep before coming up with a black box that must have been all the way at the bottom.

Katniss blinks as he returns to her, setting a black box of condoms on the edge of the bed.

“Do you have some kind of allergy or something?”

“Uh. No,” Peeta says, his confident smirk slipping slightly. “The ones you bought are uh… too small.”

His cheeks turn pink. Katniss feels her eyebrow climbing up her forehead as she dips her gaze for a second, to the box now on the bed, then to the bulge in his pants, then back up to Peeta’s face.

For one second, doubts assault her desire. Those were in his carry on, not the shopping bag she loaned him. Which means he travelled here with them. When had he planned on using them? With whom? She reaches out and picks up the box while Peeta continues to hesitate, turning it over in her palms.

“This is unopened,” she murmurs.

“Rebecca didn’t want to get pregnant. My bags were packed days before the wedding.” His two sentences seem disjointed and disconnected from hers, but Katniss sees the connections. He was ready to go on his honeymoon, to use these with his bride at  _ her _ desire, and he didn’t even bother repacking when it turned out he’d be going on his honeymoon alone.

“Show me,” Katniss whispers then meets Peeta’s questioning gaze. She reaches out towards him and grasps a bit of flannel between her fingers, yanking petulantly with each word. “Show. Me. Now.”

Slowly, Peeta reaches behind him, grasping his shirt by the neck, pulling it over his head and off with one hand. Katniss licks her lips and bites down, already turned on by what he’s revealed, her lips throbbing in anticipation of what remains hidden.

Shirt discarded, Peeta hooks his thumbs on his pajama pants, pulling out then down until they and his underwear both slide down his legs. Katniss hears them hit the floor, but her eyes are fixed on his swaying cock. Long and thick, veiny and a pleasant shade of pink.

Fuck he wasn’t kidding, she thinks. Then because she’s feeling slightly overwhelmed by how hot he is, she lets her gaze wander further, down to his prosthetic leg. Just so she knows what to expect. Slowly, she drags her gaze back up to his face.

“In my defense, I don’t exactly have a lot of experience at guessing condom size,” Katniss says. His lips twitch in a slight smile and she flings the box back at him. He catches them mid air and she grins. “Don’t let them go to waste, Peeta.”

He crawls back onto the bed, nearly tripping with his pants still around his ankles. Katniss laughs slightly as he kicks them away and she shimmies the rest of the way out of the robe and their lips reconnect, frantic and sloppy this time. She runs her hands over his torso and listens to the sounds of ripping cardboard, crinkling foil. Then his hands are on her hips, yanking her into the air so she flops back onto the bed with a squeal and a laugh as he sets the strip of condoms on the pillow and nuzzles his face into her neck.

“Do you like being talked dirty to, Katniss?” He whispers in between sucking at her pulse point. 

“I don’t...know,” she admits. She can’t remember anyone talking dirty to her at all. “Do you… do you like talking dirty?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Show me?” She asks again, basking in the warmth of his mouth and palms on her, the heat creeping closer to the surface. She can feel the withheld frenzy in his shaking hands. Feel it every time his cock lurches against her hip. She waits while he keeps kissing her, touching her. His hand wanders down to her navel and he pets her there before wandering lower, just to the edge of her panties.

“I wanna tongue you through these,” he whispers toying with the scalloped edge at the waist. “Not right away. First I want you so wet that I can smell you from here. Then I’m gonna tongue you through the lace. So close but still with something between my mouth and your clit. Just enough for you to enjoy it and also be desperate for more.”

Katniss turns her head away from him, astonished at the effect his words and a simple caress are having on her.

“I’ll hold your legs open so you can’t shut me out, can’t escape the feel of my mouth on you.” His lips caress over the now exposed back of her neck, and Katniss moans. Unsure if his words or his kisses turn her on more. “And when you’re dripping, then I’ll peel them away, wrap them around your wrists, soaked with my kisses and your juices.”

He falls silent then, focused on touching her, kissing her neck, down to her shoulder. She shudders and waits, her entire being taut with anticipation as their naked skin slides and warms the other.

“Then what?” She finally asks, desperate to know what he’d do to her after he has her tied up.

“That’s a surprise,” he whispers right before kissing her mouth again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He’s close to fucking exploding. Katniss’ hot hands are all over him. Touching every inch of him. Every spot that hasn’t been touched or kissed or thought about in so long.

It feels so good, so impossibly good to be wrapped up in bed, in the arms of another human being just as desperate for him as he is for her. He’s hovering near the brink, the dirty talk a barely effective distraction from the way Katniss responds to him, from the pulsing need in his groin to bury himself in her and selfishly thrust until he comes. 

The second he tells her it’s a surprise, something shifts. He can feel it in the air as she growls at him. She catches him off guard and he’s suddenly on his back with Katniss rising up above him. She runs her lace covered pussy over his cock and grabs his wrists, planting his hands firmly on her breasts.

He watches, mesmerized as she pleasures herself on him, pants out short notes as he plays with her breasts and clenches his ass cheeks to keep himself from thrusting beneath her, knowing that if he does, he’ll come in seconds.

Peeta can feel how wet she is through the lace, can see the lust filled haze in her eyes. It has to be a dream, he thinks as she bends over to kiss him. Her tongue aggressively invades his mouth and claims control. Her braid falls forward and caresses his shoulder, his cheek. He lays there with his hands mapping her body, pulling on her hips, bringing himself closer to embarrassment as he hears the unmistakable crinkle and tear of foil.

Katniss scoots back off of his cock and wraps her hand around him, stroking him a handful of times.

“Fuuuuuck,” he groans, dropping his head back on the pillow and flexing every muscle in his body in a desperate bid for control. He focuses on breathing as she rolls the condom over his dick.

He feels her moving and brings his hands to rest on her hips, to hold her steady as she pulls aside her panties and lines him up. He curses again and bites his lip as she moves him back and forth so his tip teases her entrance. He can’t feel the texture or wetness of her skin but he can feel how warm she is.

And because he’s still not convinced this is real, he lifts his head and forces his eyes open to watch himself slowly disappear inside Katniss’ pussy. To watch her face screwed up in effort as she swivels her hips and rocks, coating him with her juices as she goes. Lower and lower, deeper and deeper. He throbs with each inch that vanishes inside her. His hips buck once, when she’s got about half of his length inside of her.

She groans and he opens his mouth to apologize for being too eager, but Katniss tucks her feet beneath his thighs and starts rocking right there, with only half of him encased in her. Peeta’s fingers clench and flex on her hips. 

He bites his lip and starts doing algebra in his head, conjugating Spanish verbs, reciting the fifty states and their capitals, writing a grocery list for when he gets home. Anything to distract from how fucking good she feels, anything to stem the tide of pleasure buzzing in his skull, tingling in his balls.

Her walls grip at him as she continues to sink, lower and lower, her nails digging deeper into his thighs until she’s fully seated. Peeta takes a few deep breaths, licks his lips as her walls clench on him and he searches for the words to voice what he needs.

_ Wait! _

But Katniss doesn’t wait. Instead, her eyes lock on his and her hips roll back and forth over his. Her mouth parts on a soft groan and she shudders.

“Oh my god.  _ Yes _ ,” she whispers and Peeta forgets what words are as she moves, rapidly gaining speed and force. She throws her head back and Peeta fights back the wave of building release. The sight of her like this, immersed in pleasure and enjoying herself on his body is better than any of his fantasies. And the sounds she makes as she rides him — oh god the sounds are just as erotic as the feel of her pussy clenching tight and sliding around his dick. Her knees dig into the mattress, her perspiring thighs slipping over his hips and waist with each thrust of her body. 

Fuck fuck fuck, he thinks as she drives him fast and hard to the edge, his body impervious to every straw he frantically grasps at to hold back and wait, to let her come first.

It simply feels too damn good. So incredibly good that all he can manage is to teeter on the edge for a second as he watches her face caught in what he hopes is sublime pleasure. 

But then he’s lost. Falling into a shimmering abyss of heat and relief that seems endless.

No.  _ Fuck _ !

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fuck  _ yes _ , Katniss thinks as she thrusts frantically. It’s perfect. The scrape of lace against her clit, the swell of Peeta’s cock inside her, the way he can reach deep along the front of her walls. The feel of his hands on her naked skin, warm and comforting compared to the cool air of the hotel room as he touches her. The awed way he looks up at her, watches her as though she’s the sexiest thing he’s ever seen as she rides him. The way he moves his hips with her on each bounce of the bed beneath them, to deepen their fucking even more.

She’s forgotten how to form words and resorts to just moaning, uninhibited and undeniable how much she’s enjoying this. She smiles briefly as she thinks that she won’t have to fake a thing with Peeta.

Her body strains towards what she is sure is going to be a spectacular release. Perfect and beautiful. She grips tight to his thighs, moving faster and faster, heedless of the sounds she’s singing out to the canopy. Only aware of the feelings building inside her. 

“Fuck — wait — slow — No!  _ Fuck _ !” Peeta shouts beneath her, his body bucking violently, nearly unseating her.

Katniss yelps in shock as his arms shoot up around her and yank her body to his, crushing their chests together. Her hands are caught between their torsos, her face flopping into the pillow next to his ear. At this angle, her hips are forced off of him slightly.

His entire body shakes with his groan as he thrusts up into her, strokes himself through her wet folds at an agonizingly slow pace, his cock pulsing against her walls.

When he stops moving, he’s panting and she’s furious. What the hell just happened? She was so freaking close!

“Fuck,” he mutters again, and while Katniss knows she’s not all that great at reading other people’s feelings, she recognizes that tone.

It’s the tone of someone who knows they’ve messed up, even if it wasn’t completely within their grasp to not mess it up.

His cock is still pulsing inside her and her body still aches for her release. And somehow she knows that he’ll be embarrassed that he came so fast. Without her. Well, he’ll just have to get over his embarrassment. 

Renewed determination fills her and she turns her head to speak right in his ear. It’s all the motion his tight grip on her will allow right now.

“How much longer can you stay hard?”

“You’re not ups—“

“How long, Peeta?” She cuts off his apology to ask and shifts her hips a tiny amount. He sucks in a breath. “You promised to make me come.”

“Fuck. A minute, maybe two.”

“I’ll try to be fast,” Katniss says as she braces her hands on his chest and pushes herself upright. He lets her go, worry and chagrin and something else evident in his face as she tries to pick up where she left off.

“Feel good?” he asks.

She nods and doesn’t answer, too focused on chasing down the feelings again. He must take her silence as a wish for him to remain silent and let her take control because he simply lays there as she moves. And while it feels good, something is missing.

“Peeta,” she whines.

“What do you need?”

“Touch me,” she says again.

“Okay.”

But his confidence is gone. She can’t feel it in his touch, nor the incredibly sexy heat from earlier. It’s absent from his now careful caresses of her breasts and hips. Even the few passes of his thumb over her clit are lackluster. 

She keeps moving, still desperate for release but sinking into the realization that he’s going to go soft before she gets there.

Already she can’t feel him as much. Her body no longer deliciously full. She stops and curses, closing her eyes so she doesn’t glare at him.

“Katniss, I’m so—“

“Don’t!” She shouts to cover the apology. Frustrated and turned on beyond belief, with no outlet for these feelings boiling inside her.

“It’s fine,” she finally mutters and braces her hands on his chest to lift herself off.

As soon as they’re separated, his hands grasp her hips and throw her off to the side. Then he’s crawling on top of her before her body has even fully come to rest.

“No it fucking isn’t,” he growls right before his mouth attacks her.

She has no chance to breathe. No chance to protest. Not that she would want to with Peeta’s mouth trailing fire down her body. He sucks on her breasts until they ache and she has to shove him away. His tongue paints swirls of rekindled need onto her belly and hips. He sucks on a point right above her thigh that makes her scream and pull his hair. He bathes her legs in kisses until she can’t breathe then he flips her onto her stomach and kisses passionately all over her back and neck.

She keeps glancing at the bedside clock, watching the minutes speed by, on and on, amazed by how much time he’s devoting just to kissing her, and still he kisses her into frenzy then desperation. He nips at her ass and peels off her panties, dropping them on the mattress as he murmurs filthy words about how it felt to come with his cock buried inside her and how he’s  _ going _ to make her come too. Twice, as promised, because she deserves to be fucked exactly how she wants it with as many orgasms as she can handle. And his cock already wants another. Desperately.

As if to prove his point, he straddles her and slides his dick between the cleft of her ass as he kisses along her spine. He’s already hard again, and Katniss moans shamelessly, eager to feel him fill her again. Eager to hear more of his dirty talk because she definitely likes Peeta’s throaty voice whispering obscenity in her ears.

She lifts her ass into his strokes, clinging to a pillow and wailing in denial when he disappears. But then she’s flung on her back again, staring up at the canopy and trying to catch her breath when Peeta makes breathing impossible.

His fingers search through her curls and his mouth latches onto her clit, tongue drawing slow circles then fast ones then sucking. His fingers slip inside her and the world narrows to the feel of his mouth on her, the sounds of his moans against her, and the ecstatic feeling of his fingers inside her. To the feel of his hair slipping between her fingers. 

But somehow, sexiest of all is his hand pinning her thigh to the bed, four fingers brutally clenched into her flesh and one thumb delicately stroking back and forth, a silken caress that ultimately pulls tears from her eyes. She turns her head away so he doesn’t see the emotional effect he’s having. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Don’t come. Please come.

The chant in his head makes no sense, contradictory unless you know that Peeta is begging one thing from his body and the opposite from Katniss.

His mouth is filled with her. The world does not exist beyond the taste of her coating his tongue, the clench of her walls on his fingers as he works her, the scrape of her hair beneath his nose and the tantalizing scent of the edges of her release tickling his nostrils. He lives in the moment for the caress of her thighs on his cheek, the push of each jerk of her hips against his lips as she dangles close to ecstasy. 

The yank of her hands in his hair alone might make him come again.

And then she lets loose a warbling scream, a torrent of release into his mouth as he shifts so his nose is still pressed to her clit and his tongue laps up all that her pussy gives, slipping inside with his fingers for the sheer joy of having his tongue inside her while she comes.

Because of him.

Her hips buck repeatedly against his mouth, each one accompanied with a strained grunting shout and another flutter of her walls on his fingers.

When she finally falls back motionless on the bed, he doesn’t stop tonguing and sucking at her labia. Kissing her quivering thighs. Her only movement for several minutes is the rapid rise and fall of her breathing, her hand massaging his scalp.

Then her fingers slowly disentangle themselves from his hair and trail down his cheek to slip beneath his chin. She lifts his face away from her sex and smiles at him.

“Hey,” he murmurs, acutely aware of the mess coating his face. 

“Hey. Fancy seeing you here,” she teases, the gorgeous blush of orgasm still shining on her cheeks, brightening her gray eyes. 

Peeta grins up at her for a moment then grabs a corner of bedsheet to wipe her off his mouth. When he turns back to her, she smacks a foil wrapped condom onto his nose. He freezes and stares up at her.

“I can’t move. But it’s this one's turn to fulfill its destiny.”

“That has to be the worst pickup line I’ve ever heard,” Peeta says and laughs, but he takes the condom from her, relieved that she’s not disappointed with him yet, because he’s painfully aroused again and dying to feel her orgasm on his cock. 

“But it works, right?” Katniss murmurs, sounding uncertain and unable to meet his eyes. He slides up her body and kisses her until her hands are in his hair again and her legs are doing that thing, moving sinuously against his, even the prosthetic one.

“It’s working,” he tells her then drops one kiss on the tip of her nose. “Do you like being fucked from behind, Katniss?”

Katniss shrugs at this. “Take or leave it.”

“How about this...if you aren’t delirious in five strokes of my cock in you, we’ll try something else.” 

“Oh, a challenge,” she says with a smile. He wedges one hand under her ass and flips her over onto her stomach.

As he quickly sheaths himself in the fresh condom, Peeta briefly has the thought that it’s been a long time since he’s made it to a round two. Or enjoyed this kind of playful banter in bed. The thought makes him pause, guilt and some other unpleasant emotion threatening to soften him until Katniss wiggles her ass beneath him, brushing her warm body against his hard cock. She glances back over her shoulder at him, one hand laced through her now wild dark hair and a teasing smile on her face.

“Something wrong?”

“No,” he murmurs. “You’re just… utterly sexy and gorgeous.”

“Take it all in while you can,” she says. “Normally I prefer sweats and a bowl of Doritos.”

“That actually sounds...amazing,” Peeta laughs and Katniss sticks her tongue out at him.

With that, he once more wedges a hand underneath her, just enough to tilt her hips towards him, to get the right angle. He teases her lips with his cock again, kissing along her spine because she seems to really like that, until she whines his name. Then he sinks deep into her, biting down on her shoulder to stifle his moan.

And five strokes later, Katniss has her face buried in her pillow, muffling her throaty moans. Ten strokes later, her hips lift to eagerly meet each of his thrusts. Each kiss he plants on her spine causes a rippling shiver. Fifteen strokes later, her hand flies back and she grabs tight to his hair, holding his lips to her neck. And maybe fifty strokes later, Katniss screams his name as she comes around him, the feel and the sound of it send Peeta reeling into his own release, into his own blissful oblivious heaven.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Katniss can’t stop grinning, her cheek resting on the pillow. Peeta lays on top of her back, both of them recovering from what has got to be the best sex of her entire fucking life, even with that one brief snafu.

So, he’s not a shitty lover. Far from it. And there’s a new candidate for her favorite sexual position.

His heavy breaths caress over her scalp, mingled with the occasional soft kiss he presses to the back of her head. The fingers of their right hands are still entwined and resting on the pillow. His left hand is curled around her hip, exerting a barely noticeable pressure and an undeniable warmth as his thumb drags back and forth. His weight anchors her to the bed, preventing her from floating away on a cloud of euphoria.

Definitely not stopping with two orgasms, she decides as she reaches behind her again and combs her hand through his hair. He shifts slightly off to the side, so less of his weight is on her, but otherwise they just lay there, spooning and caressing. 

How many condoms come in a box, she wonders. How long will they have to wait before he’s ready to go again? ...He seemed to recover pretty fast that first time.

Peeta takes a deep breath, kisses the back of her neck and then separates their bodies. She rolls slightly to watch him as he stands, carefully walks into the bathroom, no doubt to deal with the used condoms. She squirms slightly on the bed, and as soon as he’s out, she rushes past him. As much fun as she’s having, Katniss does not want to cap off her one night stand with a UTI. That would just ruin everything.

On her way back out, she rubs some of the scented lotion she bought into her hands. Peeta is sitting on the couch, wearing his PJ pants again but no shirt. He offers her a glass of water and Katniss accepts it, silently sipping and worrying that this is where it gets weird. 

And she’s still naked. That should be weird in and of itself, right? She’s never been so open with her nudity and is considering diving for the robe from earlier when Peeta finally speaks.

“So,” Peeta says and then stops. He bites his lip and looks chagrined. “I can’t find my glasses. And I can barely see without them. Which makes looking for them something of an adventure.”

Thank goodness he can’t see, she thinks. Maybe that means he hasn’t seen any of the weird expressions she’s probably been making. Still, Katniss looks around her feet and then back at him. “When did they fall off?”

“I um, took them off sometime after we got naked but before... I think it was before. I know they weren’t on when I was eating you out.”

“How could you not know when you took them off?” Katniss asks, blushing to the roots of her hair because now that she’s thinking about it, she doesn’t remember their disappearance from his face, but she can vividly recall the way his blue eyes looked, gazing up at her from between her thighs. No glasses.

“I was a tiny bit distracted.”

“Only a tiny bit?” Katniss asks and walks back over to the bed. 

“Touché. I was a lot distracted.”

She spots his t-shirt on the floor first, and plucks it up with her toes before pulling it on instead of the robe. One problem… it barely covers her ass and she’s pretty sure her brand new panties are not wearable right now.

“I’ll help you look,” she says to distract herself from her own bare bum situation. 

Together, they shift aside the sheets. She finds the robe and sets it aside. Peeta clears his throat and when Katniss looks up, he’s grinning and dangling her panties on his finger.

“Yours?” he says, offering them up to her.

Her cheeks warm considerably and it quickly travels down her neck. She reaches out and snatches them back. 

“Mine.”

Katniss tosses them on top of the robe because she was right. They’re still damp. The search continues. She finds the strip of condoms next, shoved under a pillow, and the mangled box.

Thirty-six.

That’s the answer to her question. Thirty-six condoms in this package. Well, thirty-four now.

Should be plenty, right? She bites her lip as she stuffs them back in their box and sets it on the nightstand. She glances back up at Peeta as he moves the tangled sheets and picks up each of the pillows in turn, his face scrunched up in a squint.

It’ll be enough. Only because this isn’t a real honeymoon. Had this been real, had she been looking at seven nights with Peeta instead of just one, then maybe thirty-six condoms wouldn’t be enough.

The thought disturbs her, but Peeta saves her with a distraction in the form of a soft curse.

“Oh hell,” he mutters then grabs the sheets and the duvet in his two fists. He flings the whole mess up in the air and snaps it back down and up again a few times.

“Wait! I think I heard them!” Katniss shouts and crouches down to examine the floor around the bed. She scans the carpet and spots them. Triumphantly standing upright, she waves her prize in the air and takes the few steps around the bed to Peeta. She carefully sets Peeta’s glasses back in their spot on his nose. “There.”

His hands perch lightly on her hips, his lips curled in a soft smile as he thanks her, and Katniss decides that this is either the perfect time or the worst time to be wearing his shirt and no panties. 

Her hands drop through the air and come to rest on his chest. His heart beats steadily against her palms and his lips part. She watches him stare at her lips and rises up on her toes.

Katniss only lets her lips linger on his jaw for a second or two before she drops back down on her heels and turns out of his embrace to climb into the bed. The t-shirt she’s wearing slides and bares her lower body. The cool air is uncomfortable and a reminder that this is going to be awkward sleeping like this, commando. Even more so when Peeta tucks her in, tells her “Sleep well,” kisses her on the forehead, and then leaves her side.

She watches him turn off the lights in the room. Then she listens to him settling in on the couch to sleep.

In the darkness, with the sudden distance between them, Katniss has too much room for doubts. For thinking about all the things she already knew. 

This was the agreement, after all — him sleeping on the couch with her in the bed — but the reality of it crashes hard against her heart. The lingering bliss from their amazing sex and that sweet moment with his glasses starts to fade and sour in her mouth.

Because at the end of the day, Peeta was still engaged to someone else only weeks ago and didn’t care about Katniss’ existence. At the end of the day, his heart still belongs to her, that other woman who should have been the one in this bed. And as Katniss tries to let sleep take her, she knows she could never hope to take Rebecca’s place or fill the holes she left in Peeta’s heart.


	3. Chapter 3

Peeta stares unseeing into the darkness hovering over his head, listening to every minuscule sound in the hotel room, ears straining towards the bed for the slightest invitation to join Katniss.

It nearly killed him to walk away from that bed, and not just because she looked so incredibly delectable in his t-shirt and nothing else, her braid only somewhat repaired from the mess they’d made of it. It took nearly all of his strength to keep from burying his hands in her hair and messing it up all over again while he kissed her until they were both senseless.

He runs his tongue over his teeth, furious that he had to brush before bed for dental hygiene reasons and now he can’t taste her in his mouth anymore.

This was the arrangement. This was the agreement. He sleeps on the couch, she sleeps in the bed. No conditions and no love. No expectations. Just one night of really good sex.

But his brain has already leapt to cuddling with her and waking up next to her, feeling her body molded to his — relaxed and warm in his arms. To kissing her scrunched up nose in the morning as she tries to bat him away to gain a few more precious minutes of sleep. Breakfast in bed, only half eaten and going cold because they can’t resist making love again.

He knows that what he’s imagining right now only serves to torture himself. Knows that it will never happen. Because what he’s imagining right now are exactly the sort of things he expected he and Rebecca would be doing on their honeymoon. Couple things. Happily married couple things. And Katniss deserves better than to be used as a placeholder to stroke his battered ego or treated as a wish fulfillment for only a day. She deserves the promise of always from someone who loves her in a way Peeta knows he just won’t be able to right now. In some ways, his heart is still unavailable while it mends, even though it keeps leaping with happiness in response to Katniss.

An hour passes with Peeta catching only a handful of moments of sleep, none of it deep or decent enough to do anything but make him more tired than he already is. He thinks he hears her tossing and turning, but can’t be certain. And he doesn’t trust himself enough to check on her without doing something dumb or desperate -- like climbing in with her or kissing her in her sleep… caressing her legs and hoping they open in invitation so he can taste her orgasm again. 

He rolls onto his side and stares at the back cushions of the couch, willing himself to stay put. Katniss is probably blissfully asleep and unaware of the thoughts keeping Peeta awake. She would probably be angry or appalled at the desire humming in his veins. He’d been hoping that would fade after they had sex, but now that he’s had a taste of her, he’s only craving more.

“This is ridiculous,” her voice cuts through the dark, followed by a mighty sigh.

“What is?” he asks and there’s a sharp sound of movement from the bed.

“I thought you were asleep.”

“No.” The pause after his negative answer hangs long and intriguing in the dark shadows around them.

“Oh.” He smiles slightly at her tone, enjoying his mental image of her wrinkling her brow in that adorable scowl of hers while she works out what to say next. “Is the couch comfortable?”

“Yeah,” he lies. His discomfort isn’t really physical, not entirely at least, and he doubts she’s interested in hearing about the truth. “Is the bed?”

“Divine,” she says and Peeta smiles, happy that someone is enjoying it, until something occurs to him.

“Then why are you still awake?”

“I’m not used to sleeping without underwear,” she whispers almost shamefully.  _ Now _ Peeta’s discomfort is decidedly physical. He shifts on the couch, adjusting his growing erection as he thinks for a moment.

“I um… have an extra pair or two from the package I bought. Do you… want one? They’re new and unused.”

“No… yes. Sure. Anything is better than this,” she says and Peeta reaches out to turn on the lamp. He finds his glasses on the small table and then digs his foldable travel forearm crutches out of his carry on bag, quickly assembling them so he doesn’t think about how these combined with the lubricant in the box of condoms was what caught the attention of the TSA screening the x-rays earlier today. 

Grabbing one of the pairs of shorts for Katniss, he pauses and looks up at her, her face still squinting in response to the sudden light. His fingers play nervously with the blanket covering his lap.

“I’m uh… not wearing pants.” She sits up a little more and he explains further. “They don’t work well with a stump and sleep.”

“So...what are you wearing?”

“Just the shorts,” he says and suggests that if she gives him a minute, he can get the leg and the pants back on.

“Peeta, I think we’re past that level of modesty,” she assures him instead, one shoulder lifting in a slight shrug. He supposes they are. He did have his face between her thighs only an hour or so earlier and he is offering up a pair of his underwear for her to wear.

“Okay, just trying to be polite,” he says and leverages himself off the couch. He only makes it a few steps before she meets him partway.

She blushes and shimmies into the shorts, making a face that brings a smile to his as she adjusts to the strange feeling and the too loose fit around the waist. Then she thanks him and climbs back into bed. 

As he shifts his crutches to return to the couch, Katniss’ voice stops him. “Would you just get in the bed with me?”

Peeta pauses and watches her sitting in the bed, fingers fiddling with the end of her braid. His brain short circuits between the change in plans and the surge of hope inside him that he squashes back deep down.

“It just seems silly to let this comfy bed go to waste.”

“It’s not going to waste with you sleeping in it,” he reminds her and she scowls slightly.

“You should enjoy it, too,” Katniss says haltingly. The similarities to her arguments right before they’d had sex are both sobering and arousing. His brain is practically fried from dealing with all the conflicting emotions he’s gone through in the past twelve hours alone, to say nothing of the past two weeks. In the end, the feeling that wins out is exhaustion.

“Alright,” Peeta agrees and deals with the lights. “But if you’re a blanket thief, it’s the couch for you. Non negotiable.” 

Katniss laughs slightly and holds the covers up for him. He sets his crutches down and slides in, lays back on the pillows, leaving plenty of space between them, and lets out an audible groan as the covers settle back on top of his body. She’s right. It’s divine.

“If I start snoring in the next thirty seconds, I swear it’s the bed, not you.”

Katniss laughs lightly again. Then she scoots closer to him and her hand starts playing with his hair. It’s so sweet and domestic that the remaining tension in his body dissipates almost immediately. He can feel himself being pulled under and struggles to say one last thing to her, but he can’t remember the right words.

Instead, the last words of the night are Katniss murmuring to him, her fingers still brushing gently at his hair. “See what you’ve been missing out on?”

_ Yes _ , Peeta thinks with an aching heart. And then the darkness claims him for dreams.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A soft  _ ping  _ ushers out the last bits of sleep and Katniss turns her head towards the sound, refusing to open her eyes just yet. Whoever is bothering her this early can wait. Her bed is far too comfortable to leave just yet.

The mattress shifts beside her, the unmistakable sound of someone sitting up sends her eyes flying open as she remembers that she’s not in her bed, and she’s not alone.

Peeta

Her brain catches up with the events of last night as the morning light pierces her eyes, blinding her for just a moment. When she adjusts to it, she stares at her sleeping companion, attempting to align the planets of her thoughts and memories in a way that makes some kind of sense.

She’s in a luxurious hotel room — a honeymoon suite no less — with a shirtless Peeta Mellark sitting up in bed next to her. Oh, she’s wearing his shirt… and his underwear.

And they had sex last night. Really,  _ really _ good sex. His hair is messed up a little, making her remember just how much she clung to those ashy blonde waves last night. How soft they were and how relaxing it was to stroke them as they both fell asleep.

He’s leaning back against the headboard. The sheets are pooled around his waist, covering him from the navel down as he looks at something on his phone, pushes his glasses up his nose with one finger. Katniss bites her lip at the incredible warmth that swoops through her. He looks much more rested this morning. So much more relaxed. His skin is no longer ashen but almost glowing with renewed health. The gray light filtered through the low hanging clouds outside ought to make him appear less golden, but has failed. 

There’s the sunshine boy I remember, Katniss thinks with her heart pattering.

She drops her gaze, her eyes landing on the bedside table and the black box of condoms she placed there last night. Peeta nearly destroyed the container in his haste to get it open. She bites her cheek as she blushes, thinking about how good he felt against her, inside her. She wonders how much time they have before they have to leave for the airport. Surely they have enough time to use  _ one _ more…

“Good morning,” she says and Peeta startles.

“Morning. You’re awake.” His voice is hoarse and he clears his throats, but something in his tone catches her attention.

“What’s wrong?”

“My flight’s been cancelled again. Been bumped to tomorrow. There’s another system moving through in about a half hour. It’s supposed to last until midnight and dump at least another foot of snow.”

“What?” Katniss scrambles away from him and searches for her phone. 

“You should check on yours, but it’s probably the same thing.”

“That’s what I’m doing,” she says, perhaps a little too sharply. Peeta’s quiet while she checks and groans.

She can feel him beside her, even though she’s stretched across the bed and facing away from him. His presence in bed with her is now inescapable, his borrowed clothes on her body… 

“It was only supposed to be one night,” she complains.

“I’ll um, call the front desk. See if they can give you this room for another night,” Peeta says. Katniss sits up slightly and pushes back some of her hair, confused by his suggestion.

“What about you?”

“There’s gotta be another room here or another hotel with a vacancy, right? No flights out also means no flights in. Someone’s probably missed their check in date.”

He turns then and picks up the hotel phone, pressing one button and waiting. In that split second, Katniss lurches forward and smashes her finger on the cradle to hang up and end his call. Peeta stares at her, the phone still in his hand.

“Or... _ or _ ,” she repeats as she gathers her thoughts. “You extend the room and place an order for breakfast and we…”

“We what, Katniss?” He whispers the question. She has no words or explanation for what she does next. Only a sneaking suspicion that it might be entirely selfish as she tilts her head up and kisses him.

Peeta sucks in a sharp breath through his nose, his body rigid for a second until Katniss shifts to climb into his lap, sets one hand on his cheek as they kiss.

As soon as he’s into it, Katniss pulls back and Peeta almost follows after her, eyes closed and breathing harsh.

“You better call about the room,” Katniss encourages and then lifts her finger off the cradle. The dial tone is loud.

Peeta has to clear his throat before he can speak, which makes Katniss smile as she nibbles on his ear and the side of his neck while rocking her hips and generally distracting him as he talks to the front desk.

“We have the room for another night,” he gasps out and fumbles to get the phone hung up. Then he turns on Katniss with an almost aggravated look in his blue eyes. She barely has time to squeal before he flips her off of him and onto her back. He pins her to the mattress and smiles down at her. A giddy feeling fills her chest at the bright expression on his face. “How do you suggest we pass the time, Katniss?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Peeta half expected her to already be gone this morning. Isn’t that what you were supposed to do the morning after a one night stand? Run as far and fast as possible before things had a chance to get awkward?

But Katniss had stayed and suggested -- actually it was more like she demanded -- they share the room again for another night. She had stayed and climbed into his lap, kissing behind his ears and running her fingers through his hair in that way of hers that makes his entire body both chilled and overheated at the same time.

And now he covers her mouth with his so she screams against his tongue. His head is spinning with need and he ignores the ache in his arm as he keeps moving his fingers until she’s done coming on them. Until she’s limp on the bed and caressing his cheeks. Her soft moans as she drifts down vibrate through him to his toes. 

He forgot to order breakfast and silently curses himself. He was doing so well, other than that one instance of coming too soon last night, but he thinks maybe he’s made up for it now. He can’t possibly call in an order until they’re finished and just hopes Katniss isn’t angry with him for getting distracted and forgetting.

He likes her. More than likes her, and can’t stand the thought of letting her down, disappointing her, letting her walk away with anything less than spectacular memories of their time together.

He’s never known anyone so unguarded in bed. She wears every feeling, every response on her face. Her voice sings with pleasure and hums with content. Like she’s incapable of faking or lying where her deepest desires are concerned. And she’s not too shy or ashamed to demand what she wants from him. Which is a bit of a miracle since, even though Peeta’s always thought he was pretty good at reading people, as far back as grade school, it was often hard to read Katniss Everdeen's feelings.

Slowly, he removes his fingers from her and she shudders one last time before urging him to get a condom on. He does her bidding, guessing breakfast will just have to wait a little longer, and settles on top of her, her thighs draped over his and her toes pointed into the mattress as he grabs hold of his sheathed cock and swirls the head through her still glistening lips. Her back arches slightly, taking just the tip of him inside. Her nails dig trenches in his skin as she starts to move her hips with urgency, undulating up and down. He sinks into her until he can reach no further and has to move his knees closer to her, stretching her legs wider to accommodate his hips.

“More,” she says breathlessly. “More, Peeta.”

Their joining is slow and delicious, giving them time to caress one another, shiver with each little bit of him that enters her. When his hips are finally flush with hers, Peeta bends over her, bracing both hands on the bed to kiss her. Languid and deep. Beneath him, Katniss continues to roll her hips up into him as they kiss. 

Eventually, he has to sit back on his haunches and cup his hands on her hips to help her keep the angle and pace she seems to like.

“Oh  _ yes _ . Talk to me,” Katniss pants, her eyes closed tight as they move together.

“There aren’t words for this, Katniss,” Peeta says. She moans and slows down again. So much slower as her hips circle in the air, grinding up against him. Her eyes flutter open and she fixes him with a hazy, delirious stare. 

“Tell me,” she swallows before continuing. “Tell me how it feels.”

“Like fucking heaven,” Peeta says. Her moan springs loose the words from his throat. They pour out like honey into the musky air. Words about her eyes, her lips, the way she moves her hips. Words about her scent and taste and how he half expected her to be gone this morning but was ecstatic to see she hadn’t. Promises for the day and night ahead of them. 

Strained noises leave her throat as he keeps talking, her mouth gaping open. Peeta strokes his thumbs over her hip bones, watching her unravel with each thrust of her hips and clench of her thighs.

“Can’t stop -- gonna --!” 

She squeaks out the words and then an incoherent song of release, body frozen bent in an arch. He holds their hips tight together, rejoicing in the rhythmic clench of her release on his cock, fighting back his own euphoria for just a moment longer, desperate to watch her work through hers first.

As her body relaxes, Peeta follows her down into the mattress, his chest pressing to hers, his hips thrusting softly, involuntary and eager for release now.

“Can you handle a few minutes of hard and fast?” Peeta murmurs to her, kissing along her brow and brushing back her hair.

“Don’t be too rough. I’ve never...been this active in such a short space of time,” Katniss murmurs, sliding her legs up higher on his hips until her feet rest just below his ass cheeks.

“I’ll try,” Peeta promises, her words giving him a deep carnal sort of satisfaction. “Tell me if it’s too much?” He waits for her nod before kissing her mouth and enjoying the languid sounds of bliss she makes while he withdraws slowly. He slams back into her, groaning as his eyes roll back in his head at the bolts of ecstasy shooting through his body. 

Katniss squeals into his mouth, fingers scraping down his biceps. He lifts his head just long enough to ask her if she liked that and for her to say one word — “yes!” Then he recaptures her lips to repeat the motion. This time, she arches beneath him, tearing their mouths apart with a loud groan.

“Again,” she pleads. He gives her what she wants. Hard thrusts spaced out long enough for him to enjoy her reaction, to slowly push himself back up near the peak. 

“Again — again— harder!” Her words grow shorter and higher pitched, more desperate with each punishing thrust. Peeta’s groans join the symphony as he picks up the pace. Harder and faster at her command until their hips smack together and he feels each stroke of his sack against her body. Her feet bouncing on his ass and her nails in his skin drive him wild.

Sparkling bubbles start to form on the edge of his vision and he can’t stop or quiet himself. They dissolve into mindless wordless tension poised for the fall, frenzied for that one weightless moment of euphoria.

Peeta goes first, shoved bodily into streaks of candescent heat burning through him, face buried in Katniss’ neck and his hips thrusting wildly.

Gradually, he slows. Barely aware of Katniss writhing beneath him. The squeeze of her pussy on his cock, the pain of her nails dug home in his neck and his chest. Her content humming.

When he stops moving, he collapses on top of her, knowing that he’s probably crushing her but unable to do a thing about it. Not with her fingers toying with his hair, her lips trailing petal soft kisses over his shoulder, her foot caressing up and down his calf. 

“I guess that’s one way to get rid of the morning after tension,” Katniss sighs and Peeta can’t help but smile. He rolls them together so that she’s sprawled on his chest. Her pink cheeks and glowing eyes send his smile to its limits. He lifts his hand to caress over her hair then down her cheek.

“I should order breakfast now. Got distracted again and forgot.”

“I got it,” she offers happily and shifts so that she’s diagonal across him, her hips on his abdomen and her ass slightly up in the air as she calls down for room service. Peeta let’s his fingers trail in a wandering path over her legs and feet. Sleep tugs down at him, and he briefly thinks that he could be happy in a life like this.

“They’re apparently a little busy today with the storm and all. They said it would be at least thirty or forty minutes.”

“Oh. Or I could venture out if you can’t wait,” Peeta says around a yawn.

“Only if you’ve got snow boots or a heavy parka in that carry on. Maybe a dog sled and team?” Katniss asks with a glance towards the window. The snow’s already starting up again, dropping more thick flakes on an already shrouded in snow landscape.

“No,” Peeta admits, “but--”

“Then that would be silly. We won’t waste away in the next thirty minutes. I think I’m going to take a shower while we wait,” Katniss says and slides off of him. He lifts his head to watch her rest one hand on the bed pole, a soft smile on her lips. “You’re welcome to join me if you want to.”

She slips away without waiting for his answer and Peeta is left on the bed with heavy limbs dragging him too quickly towards slumber. His brain registers the water starting and then...Katniss starts to sing.

Her voice is clear and beautiful. He sits up to keep from falling asleep and missing it. So many of his memories of her from school involve her singing. None of them involve her like this, though. Naked and seemingly carefree in his shower.

Well, he reminds himself, not really his shower. None of this is really his after all. It’s theirs for the day, an extension on the strange gift life seems to have dropped in his lap after a month of near catastrophic levels of stress — two months — three? Or was it six? How long had he and Rebecca been in the downward spiral that caused their relationship to unravel?

Too long, Peeta decides. Too long with him ignoring it or oblivious to it. There’s no getting her back. Peeta doesn’t even want her back anymore; Katniss was right about that. Fidelity is a huge condition for Peeta to be able to love. Loyalty, trust. He values those things far above passion or romance, and while his heart may still be in pieces, Rebecca’s hands still clutching a few of the shards, there’s no reason why he can’t — why he shouldn’t — enjoy what fate is offering up to him. Katniss’ singing reminds him of this, a siren song guiding him towards light and hope and some kind of healing that he does not intend to take for granted.

So he finds his crutches and makes his way into the bathroom, pausing in the doorway to watch Katniss for a moment, through the water speckled glass door as she rinses soap from her body, her voice filling the steamy air and the cracks in his chest. Her voice filling the cracks in his chest with melodic mortar. A strange swelling occurs in his breast, a growth of something new or the symptom of a healing injury, Peeta can’t be sure but maybe he doesn’t need to be just yet.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He’s not exactly stealthy, Katniss thinks as she finishes rinsing the soap off her body. She had briefly faltered in her song, taking an extra breath where she probably shouldn’t have, while she contemplated stopping altogether, when he opened the bathroom door and took a few halting steps into the room. But she kept singing because she didn’t want to startle him or frighten him off. It’s been a long time since she’s dealt with a wounded animal and she’s a bit rusty.

But she knows she wants his hands on her this morning. As much as she can get them for whatever time they have left. The cancelled flight only built upon her already staggering guilt over the way the meetings and contract negotiations went. She can’t afford to think too much about the people she’s let down and how she’s going to tell them or it will drive her mad. They trusted her, put their faith in her, and she failed them.

Thankfully, Peeta’s lips and arms and yes, his dick, managed to distract her from her worries this morning. She barely even had to prod him compared to all the hints she dropped last night. Last night it took her hours and considerable effort to convince him, this morning mere minutes.

When she hears the sounds of his crutches approaching the shower on the tile floor, she smiles and slowly turns her head to face him. He pauses and she reaches out to open the door for him.

“Don’t be shy now, Peeta.”

Who the hell is this person, she wonders. This flirty, happy girl. Katniss wishes she could stay around longer but knows she can’t. So she’ll just have to enjoy the heady feeling of being someone else for the weekend. Enjoying what it gains her.

Peeta shifts his crutches and she reaches out, wrapping her arm around his torso, under his arms, to keep him steady as he moves into the shower and transitions to one foot. Together, they get him seated on the shower chair, which had she been really paying attention last night when she was in here taking her bath in that glorious tub, she would have known was a clue in regards to his leg.

But she wasn’t exactly all with it last night, too caught up in the idea of having sex with Peeta, of trying to keep her expectations low to avoid disappointment -- an exercise that proved wholly unnecessary.

None of her previous sexual partners managed to get her as relaxed as Peeta has or made her feel this comfortable in her own naked skin. None of them made it so easy for her to let the raw feelings take control or to succumb rather than pull back from the frightening edge of release. It’s not that she’s never orgasmed with a partner. More that it’s never been this easy to do so.

Maybe it’s the fact that he’s more of a mess than she is. Maybe it’s because he has more to lose than her but he’s still being brave and taking the risk. Or maybe it’s something intangible like the effect his arms around her seems to have. Sex with Peeta, last night and again this morning, wasn’t just unimaginably pleasurable, although it was that, it was also comforting somehow. It felt like he was...holding her. She felt...safe. Which makes no sense at all.

She can’t afford to examine her feelings on the matter too much right now so she instead focuses on something she can manage. At the moment, her life feels like it’s falling apart, so little of it in her control. Maybe not as badly as Peeta’s, which is why this is so easy. So easy to forget her own troubles and lose herself in healing someone else’s. She can’t fix the mess she made of her and Gale’s business, but she can manage to shampoo Peeta’s hair.

As he gets settled, Katniss slathers conditioner in her own hair and pins it up with a plastic clip to soak. Then she shifts Peeta’s chair so he’s where she wants him in the water flow.

“Close your eyes,” she tells him. He lifts one eyebrow at her but then does as asked. Katniss grabs the hotel shampoo and starts lathering it gently into his hair. His head tips back and a soft moan vibrates in his chest as she works.

She watches his expressions, so revealing even with his blue eyes hidden behind closed lids. Utter abandon and a kind of almost pain… maybe regret? Small water droplets begin to gather on his eyelashes, so long and blonde. Katniss moves so she’s standing upright with one leg on either side of him but the only parts of her touching him are her thighs brushing his and her hands in his hair.

Reaching up, she takes down the spray nozzle then combs through his hair, helping rinse out the shampoo. His hands find her thighs then slide slowly up to her hips where they come to rest. Except for his thumbs which pick up that lazy back and forth caress that Katniss has discovered drives her absolutely wild, no matter where he’s done it.

Her cheeks, her thighs, her hips. She really wants him to do that while simply holding her hand or maybe on her neck while he kisses her. On her waist while they snuggle on the couch, watching bad tv.

Katniss pauses at the truly intimate desire then returns the shower head to its cradle. When she’s done, she finds Peeta staring up at her through the steam. Then slowly, she lowers herself onto his lap, sucking in air when her lips come in contact with his hard length.

Slowly, she bends forward to brush her mouth against his. Just the once. Then again. Her eyes flutter closed and she surrenders to the kiss, wraps her arms around his shoulders to steady herself.

Her hips ache with the need to move. Her core throbs with the need to have him inside her again, but more than anything, she wants to just do this — kiss him in an unhurried pace with the water cascading over them, hissing out of the tap and pattering gently on their skin. She wants to inhale the steam and his quiet moans while their tongues massage together. While his thumbs maintain that maddening caress on her hips.

The water from the shower is warm enough to turn their skin splotchy and pink with heat, but the heat emanating from deep in her chest and spreading out through her body as they kiss is infinitely hotter.

The feel of it makes the water on her skin seem cold, more like a spring rain than a warm shower. And she worries then that she may never, ever want to stop kissing Peeta Mellark.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Her fingers in his hair. God he can’t get enough of that, he thinks as just the pads of her fingers toy with the hair at the nape of his neck. As good as it feels, kissing Katniss in the shower, his mind is in overdrive, trying to banish a thousand harmful thoughts he doesn’t want right now. Maybe not ever.

We never did this, Rebecca and I, Peeta had thought as Katniss shampooed his hair. It felt so painfully intimate and domestic and  _ good _ , yet he’d never done anything like that with the woman he’d planned to marry.

He couldn’t even remember the last time they’d taken a shower together, him and Rebecca. Couldn’t even recall a time when she sat on his lap while the shower rained water over them and they kissed or just held each other. He’d barely been able to come up with a memory of his ex-fiancée pampering him the way Katniss has done this morning. The one he did come up with was over a year ago.

He doesn’t want to think about this now. Not now,  _ not now  _ with Katniss’ lips on his and her fingers in his hair. He doesn’t want to dwell in regrets or mistakes or how badly he fucked up his own potential marriage. Rebecca doesn’t belong in his brain with Katniss in his arms. He can’t stand the thought of hurting or betraying Katniss like that. And yet the thoughts are still screaming at him from every corner of the room.

He lifts one hand and pulls back on her shoulder, abruptly ending the kiss.

“Katniss, look at me...please?” he whispers and she slowly opens her eyes to look in his, her fingers still weaving through his hair. The caress makes him shudder and she smiles slightly. Her gray eyes are smoky and warm, wrapping him in a strange sort of comfort, a kind of reminder bringing him out of self-pity and back to reality as the unwanted thoughts gradually recede, washed off his shoulders and down the drain.

He bends forward then, to kiss her sternum. Katniss moans slightly and bends back, gripping tight to Peeta’s neck as she presents her breasts for the feast. And feast Peeta does, grateful for each catching sigh and soft squeal that sings from her throat and bounces off the stone walls, keeping him grounded in the moment, frozen right here in the swirling steam and the heat of her arousal growing impossible to ignore against his bare cock.

When her hips start to rock in minuscule waves, he kisses back up her chest, back up her neck as he pulls her upright again. Back up to kiss her ear where an awful bitter taste meets his tongue and he starts to sputter and gag.

He leans to the side and tries to spit it off as Katniss first asks confused questions and then starts to laugh when he finally manages one word between gags.

“Conditioner!”

Then they’re both smiling and laughing while Katniss stands and lets her hair down. She turns so her back is to Peeta then leans back into the water stream to rinse her hair. He places his hands on her lower back to hold her braced there bent back over his shoulder. His cock jumps at the beauty before him, at the mental image of her lowering herself into him just like this.

Oh yeah, he wants to fuck her like this too. To watch her ass bounce and her hair sway over her back, his fingers gripping her hips or thighs, maybe reaching around to fondle her breasts or stroke her clit.

A loud knock interrupts his fantasy and Katniss whips upright in front of him.

“They’re early,” she mutters and quickly steps from the shower. 

“I’m coming!” She shouts towards the door.

“Just from my kisses?” Peeta teases and she gives him an exasperated look.

“No, that’s for after breakfast.”

Hell yes it is, he thinks. Before she shuts the shower door again, she leans back inside and kisses Peeta on the lips. Swift and sweet.

She towels off in record time, slipping into the fluffy robe and her yellow duck slippers, twisting her hair up in the towel. The bathroom door closes behind her and Peeta is momentarily left reeling at the whole thing— simple, casual, mundane. 

Peeta springs into action to finish his shower and follow her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They eat breakfast in bed, sprawled out across the rumpled duvet they barely pulled back into place before reclining on the surface. They eat breakfast dressed in matching, fluffy robes, unconcerned when the fabric shifts with small movements, affording brief glimpses of the bare skin underneath to one another. 

Peeta sucks the juice from a fresh pear off his fingers and watches as Katniss laughs. What had he said? He can’t even remember except that it was something sarcastic, vaguely self-deprecating. She rolls her own orange in her palm and then shifts her legs to lie down.

“Are you done eating?” Peeta asks.

“For now,” she says happily and then opens her eyes to look up at him. “How bad is this storm supposed to be anyways? Any chance we might venture out into it this afternoon?”

A twinge of pain stabs at him. The brief thought that he knew she’d eventually want to leave and get away from him.

“I dunno. We could check the weather,” he says with a shrug. Katniss huffs.

“My phone is all the way over there,” she pouts, pointing towards the low table in front of the couch where her phone sits charging.

“Oh my god how will you ever make it?” Peeta teases and she kicks out at him with her bare foot.

“Shut up and finish your pear,” she says. Peeta snares her foot and takes one last juicy bite of his pear before setting it aside. “Stop. I’m not ticklish.”

“No?” he asks with a grin. She sounds awfully worried for someone who isn’t ticklish. With his free hand, he grabs his phone and unlocks the screen, opens the weather app before handing it to her. “Here, check the weather while I verify that you are in fact not ticklish.”

Except instead of tickling her, he kisses the side of her ankle. Then a little higher on her leg. Her robe has fallen open and her pussy beckons. He wants to taste her again. Wants to feel her clit pulsing under his tongue and her fingers in his hair.

“Should have brought my snowboots,” she mutters and then squirms slightly. Peeta hums as he reaches her knee. “Peeta…”

She says his name like a warning and he pauses to lift his head, hoping she isn’t going to tell him to stop because while he’s full from breakfast, he’s ravenous for her.

“What’s wrong?”

“Do you know you have 58 unread text messages, 133 unread emails, and 21 unheard voicemails?”

“Oh. Yeah,” he says and takes his phone back with a slight shrug. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Seriously? It’s giving me anxiety just thinking about it. How do you even let that happen?”

“Um, I was in kind of a dark place and had my phone turned completely off for a few days. Never got around to answering them when I turned it back on.”

“You need to,” Katniss says and sits up, suddenly preoccupied with her robe being closed, a scowl forming on her face as he lets go of her leg. “At least answer any that are from your family and close friends.”

“What do you care? They’re all just pity messages.” Peeta shifts so that his back is to her, sudden rage building in his veins.

“No, they’re not. They care about you, Peeta, or they wouldn’t have reached out to you so much. These are the people who are going to be there for you in the coming months. The least you can do is reassure them that you aren’t dead.”

“I really don’t want to answer the same five questions over and over again,” he says, squeezing his eyes shut and pinching the bridge of his nose. “No, I’m not dead. Yes, Rebecca really did cheat on me with Evan and called off the wedding three days prior. Yes, I feel like complete shit. No, I don’t know where I’m going to live when my lease runs out in two months since I definitely  _ cannot _ move into the apartment Rebecca picked out for us. No, I really didn’t see this coming because I’m a fucking idiot. No, I really don’t know what I did to deserve this but I’m sure my mother will tell me post haste.”

“Peeta--”

“Drop it, Katniss. I’ll deal with it when I’m ready to,” he snaps and stands up, snatching up his phone and then realizing that he’s got nowhere to go to escape her except the bathroom. He’s not in the mood to be the pathetic mess wandering the hotel hallways in his robe, and through the glass doors leading to the balcony, all he can see is a howling swarm of thick snow.

He startles when her hands land on his shoulders and slide around to embrace him.

“That was six questions, not five.” He groans and she somehow manages to get a kiss landed on the back of his neck that makes his entire body quiver and hum. “How about this. Tell them that you’re alive and you appreciate their concern. That you’ll talk to them all when you’re ready to deal with it, but that isn’t today. Tell them you appreciate them respecting your wishes. And leave it at that.”

“I guess I could do that…”

“Write it once then copy and paste it. They’re worried about you, Peeta. Maybe they don’t know what you need from them right now, or maybe they just don’t know it instinctively, but how are they going to figure it out or support you if you cut them out and don’t give them the chance to?”

“That is way too logical for this early in the morning,” he complains and she chuckles. 

“It’s already after nine.” Then she stands on her toes and nibbles at his ear. “I’ll read for a bit and when you’re done, there’s a treat for you.”

“A treat? You make me sound like a dog.”

“Hm. Loyal, sweet, easily excited…”

“Ouch,” he says and turns his head enough to see the playful look on her face.

“Come fetch me when you’re done, and bring your bone,” she says and saunters over to her bag, coming up with a book and a pair of headphones she plugs into her phone. Then she flops on the bed. 

Half the reason he didn’t answer them yesterday, other than Delly, was because he was simply overwhelmed by the prospect of facing it. Maybe he was afraid that answering the concerned messages would be a way of admitting that the whole fiasco really happened. It did happen, but now, watching Katniss as she settles on the bed with her book and her music, he’s starting to think it isn’t the end of the world. Maybe it’s the worst thing to happen to him, but that doesn’t mean things have to be awful from here on out…It doesn’t mean life can’t be good again.

Katniss flips the page. It looks like she’s close to the end of her book, though, and Peeta worries that she’ll finish it long before he’s done. He’s not sure what she’ll do if that happens, but he’s got a fair idea of what the treat is when she glances up at him and shifts so her robe slips and reveals more of her legs.

God how he wants those legs wrapped around him again. His head, his hips, tucked up against his legs while he fucks her from behind.

The worry and the anticipation both propel him into action again. He starts to sort through the voicemail messages first. Most of those are from immediate family and Delly. One from the airlines informing him of his cancelled flight. A couple of them are second or third calls from the same people, sounding increasingly worried, and Peeta starts to feel really guilty for the way he neglected them.

He starts texting them all back, using the same message over and over, almost verbatim to what Katniss suggested he use. Peeta can barely keep up, because almost as soon as he sends the messages out, responses come right back in, as though they were all glued to their phones. Waiting on him? He hopes not. 

A few of the immediate responses make him cringe, but most of them are just happy to hear from him and saying they understand. They’ll be there when he’s ready.

When one of his college buddies asks if Peeta will be returning wedding gifts and can he get the money for his, Peeta decides that’s about enough for now. The rest of the dozen or so people whose messages he hasn’t answered yet aren’t people he’s frequently in contact with anyways. He’s listened to all the voicemails, skimmed the email and responded to the important ones, the rest are all work related or junk mail. Those can wait a little longer.

He scrolls through the as yet unanswered texts real quick just to be sure, when one catches his eye.

**Haymitch Abernathy**

Haymitch? Peeta’s brow furrows. A little wary of what he’ll find, but decidedly curious, Peeta opens up the text from Rebecca’s favorite uncle. Haymitch was one of the first of Rebecca’s family to truly welcome him, commenting that Peeta had “spunk,” and often doling out somewhat harsh but much needed and surprisingly helpful advice. They had started a pretty fierce chess rivalry too, and in a moment of honesty, Peeta admits that he’s kind of going to miss the old guy, but that it wouldn’t be fair to steal away one of Rebecca’s relatives, no matter how much Peeta liked being around Haymitch.

Which is also why hearing from him surprises Peeta, knowing how much Haymitch values loyalty and honesty.

_ Kid. My niece is a fucking moron. I’m not entirely convinced we’re related by blood. Call me if you’re ever wanting a chess match.  _

A short huff of laughter escapes his lips. Haymitch was never one to mince words or offer anything he didn’t intend on delivering, so miraculously, Peeta knows that he somehow means it. It’s almost the easiest text to answer.

**_Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind._ **

Unlike many of the others, there’s no immediate answer. But Peeta wasn’t exactly expecting one. He turns the phone back off and sets it on the coffee table. He feels...strangely lighter. His eyes are drawn irrevocably to the woman in the bed. She’s twisting the end of her braid around her finger, left leg propped up on the bent upright right leg. Her foot bounces in the air, likely in time with her music. Peeta feels his lips curl in a smile and then he rises to his feet.

When he reaches the bed, he stretches across it, sliding his head through the loop left by her legs and kissing her calf. Her foot flops off to the side and she lowers her book to look down at him with one arched eyebrow.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she asks as she pulls out her earbuds, but he’s pretty sure her lips are twitching in a smile.

“Claiming my treat,” he whispers before returning his lips to her skin and kissing his way from knee to thigh to where he really,  _ really _ wants to taste.

Katniss moans and her book slides forgotten from her fingertips, crashing to the floor as she arches into his mouth and slides her fingers into his hair.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“No more. Please,” Katniss whines as Peeta rises up from between her splayed legs. She’s shaking from head to toe, her body devastated, rocked to her core. She’s never come so many times in a row in her entire life and each one was more perfect than the last. Then his mouth is on hers and she can taste herself, her multiple orgasms he wrung from her that now coat his lips. She manages to bring her hands up to his cheeks to hold him in place, because while she’s not sure she’ll ever be able to orgasm again after what he just did to her, she’s already grown to love kissing him.

“Was that good?” he murmurs to her lips and she groans comically. Peeta laughs and gathers her into his arms before settling on the bed, their legs twined together and his fingers stroking over her hair and neck.

“Did you answer all your messages?”

“Most of them. The important ones. The rest are nice, but they can wait.”

“I thought I was supposed to be rewarding you, not the other way around,” Katniss grouses and Peeta grins before nibbling at her ear and whispering.

“Tasting you is more than rewarding. Tasting your orgasms...fucking heavenly.” Katniss blushes at his vehemence and drags one finger down his chin before bringing his lips back to hers for one more soft, slow kiss. When they stop, both of them with shuddering, uneven breathing, he says one more thing that surprises her. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Giving me the kick to the pants that I needed.” She smiles and pulls him back down for more kissing. Because kissing him is fucking heavenly. But her limbs are dragging, sinking deeper into a heaviness she can no longer ignore.

“Just one problem,” she tells him when she can’t summon any more energy for even kissing.

“What’s that?”

“Now I’m really,  _ really  _ tired…” Katniss trails off as exhaustion creeps in and steals away her thoughts and speech.

“Then we’ll just curl up here and take a nap.” He presses a soft kiss to her forehead and she’s asleep before he removes his lips from her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Katniss wakes up, it’s confusingly dark in the room. It doesn’t feel late, but her body is groggy. Lifting her head, she searches for Peeta and finds him across the bed, still asleep. One arm flung up over his head and his lips barely parted.

Outside, the snow has stopped, but she can see a deep curve of it has accumulated against the doors to the balcony. Heavy gray clouds still hang low in the sky, obscuring all the sunlight. Her stomach grumbles in hunger and she checks the time. It’s well past lunch. Carefully, she scoots closer to Peeta and watches him a moment before cooing his name and planting a solid kiss on his mouth.

He startles awake and then smiles at her, his blue eyes bleary but happy.

“Good morning.”

“Good afternoon,” she corrects and he shifts them both to look out the window.

“It stopped snowing.” She hums an affirmative and her stomach growls once more. Peeta grins at her and she pulls a face. “I have an idea. Is our laundry back yet?”

“Came back this morning with breakfast.”

“Great. Get dressed, and bring your coat.”

“Okay,” Katniss draws out the word but does as he asks. It only takes them a few minutes of cobbling together something resembling clothes. Katniss is wearing her duck slippers again. If she’d been thinking straight last night, she would have looked to see if the store had any decent shoes in her size.

“No matter, I think we can pull this off without actually going all the way outside,” Peeta tells her as they leave the room, pausing in the doorway to kiss her forehead. He’s got a handful of cups from the in room beverage station and hands one to her then takes her hand and leads her to the elevator.

They head downstairs to the lobby, with a brief stop at one of the vending machines where he buys two cans of root beer. Katniss thinks maybe she knows what he’s got planned and a giddy feeling bubbles up inside her, confirmed as he keeps searching until he finds a door that works.

“This should do it,” he says and leads her out onto the small patch of concrete that was protected under an awning. They giggle like children and crouch in the cold, scooping heaps of snow into their cup and packing it down. When they’re full, Katniss and Peeta hurry back inside and up to the room where they settle on the couch.

Katniss rubs warmth back into her hands as Peeta cracks open the sodas and pours them over the top of the snow cones. She finds two spoons, and then they relax back into the couches with a movie playing on the TV screen. The volume is low and the sounds of crunching snow in teeth cover some of the dialogue, but Katniss can’t bring herself to care as she and Peeta talk through most of it anyways, rambling wandering conversations with no beginning, ending, or goal in sight.

It’s...refreshing. And as Peeta licks the last of his frozen treat from his spoon, Katniss can’t help wondering how the hell she’s supposed to let him walk away tomorrow.


	4. Chapter 4

It’s probably the best day he’s had in a long while, Peeta thinks as his fingers twist and comb through Katniss’ hair, her head on his lap. They’ve been lazy most of the day. A light lunch ordered after their snow cone adventure and now simply relaxing. Snowbound and carefree. He thinks maybe she’s fallen asleep, though, because her phone has vibrated on the coffee table at least five times in the past ten minutes, each time lighting up with the name  **Gale** and the unmistakable face of Gale Hawthorne.

Still doesn’t smile much, apparently, Peeta had thought wryly. But he also knows that Gale is her business partner and if he’s calling her on repeat, he must be worried about something. So Peeta nudges Katniss awake.

“Hey. Gale’s been calling you nonstop for the past ten minutes.”

“Huh?” she says, confusion in her face, although awareness and horror are swift on its feet. “Shit.”

She sits up and tries to straighten her blouse before snatching up her phone. She stares at the screen for a moment then holds down the top button until the power down screen pops up.

“Hey hey hey,” Peeta says, an uneasy feeling in his chest as he slides the phone from her hand before she can finish the action. “Haven’t you told your partner what’s going on?”

“What, no. I couldn't. How would I tell him?” Katniss asks and reaches for her phone. On instinct, Peeta pulls it back out of her reach. Something isn’t right.

“How about, ‘Gale, my flight was delayed two days. I’ll be home tomorrow.’”

“What?” she asks, scowling at Peeta and making another grab for her phone. “He knows that. I texted him yesterday and again this morning.”

“Okay then why’s he calling you like he’s concerned.”

“Because he’s weird and paranoid and kind of a micro manager. Will you give me my phone back?”

“Only if you promise to call him.”

“It’s none of your concern, Peeta. Just give me back my damn phone!” Her shouting would normally make him fold, but there’s something desperate and wild in her eyes that shouldn’t be there.

“You weren’t lying about him being married to someone else were you?” he asks and Katniss sputters. He shoves her away and stands, moving across the room and pocketing her phone as he goes.

“I wasn't lying about that Peeta. Her name is Leevy and she’s one of my closest friends.”

“Then why don’t you want to talk to your business partner? You’re on a work trip, not vacation.”

“You’re being an asshole.”

“And you’re being evasive.” Peeta slides the phone back out of his pocket and swipes over the screen to get rid of some of the smears. “Maybe I should answer the phone next time he calls--”

“Don’t!” Katniss shouts and shoots across the room. She has the phone out of his hands before he can blink. She retreats across the room, glaring at him.

“Why not?” Peeta whispers, sudden fear and a vile taste rising in his throat. God not again. Not with Katniss, too. He knows he can’t be her first choice, not forever at least. He’s too much of a broken mess to expect her or even ask her to take that kind of risk on him. But he’d hoped...thought maybe he could be her first choice just for these couple of nights.

“It’s not...not because of that.”

“What? Because you don’t want him to know you’re sleeping in some guy’s hotel room and having sex? Or maybe it’s just that it’s me you don’t want him to know about.”

“No!” She shouts almost tearfully, a reaction that confuses him. “I mean, he’d give me shit about that. I’d never hear the end of it. But it’s...it’s not  _ you _ , Peeta.”

“Then what,” Peeta says, stuffing his empty hands in his pockets as Katniss tosses her phone on the table and sinks back onto the couch.

“Can’t we just go back to having a really good time together and forget about all the shit that’s waiting for us to deal with when we get home?” A flutter of hope stirs in his chest at her words about having a really good time, but he shakes his head and forces himself to focus.

“No, I don’t think so. Not until you tell me why you don’t want to talk to Gale.”

“Fine,” she groans and tilts her head back. He’d laugh at how petulant she looks if he weren’t so worried about her. Peeta bites the inside of his cheek and waits for Katniss to take a few deep breaths and collect herself. “I don’t want to talk to him because I fucked up our negotiations and lost our most lucrative and longest running contract.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the silence that follows, Katniss isn’t sure what to expect. As the silence continues, she lifts her head and scowls at the smile on Peeta’s face.

“You think this is funny?”

“No,” he asserts. “No, I absolutely do not think this is in any way funny.”

“Good, because losing the Heavensbee contract puts us so far in the red I’m seeing infrared.”

Peeta chuckles slightly but sits next to her and takes her hand.

“I’m sorry, Katniss. I know I shouldn’t laugh. It’s just...I’m a little relieved. I thought maybe you were going to drop some terrible bomb like you’re actually married or something.”

“I have a Tinder profile.”

“And I was engaged until two weeks ago, which usually requires two faithful people, but here we are. There’s also the fact that for the past day, I’ve been operating under the belief that I was a complete mess and that you had everything all together.”

“Far from it,” she groans and then hides her face in his shoulder. It’s nice there. Warm and comforting and she thinks maybe she’ll never come out and face the music of her failure. 

“I see that now. Maybe the busted shoes and duck slippers should have been my first real hint.” Katniss snorts at this. “And I am shamefully, perversely happy to see it.” 

“Ass.”

“Sorry,” he murmurs and then kisses the top of her head. “Tell me what happened? Maybe it’ll help to talk about it.”

It’s annoying how right he is. She doesn’t want to talk about it, but it’s been eating her up inside and she knows that eventually, she’ll have to stop running and face her troubles or they’ll destroy her.

“I’ve been here negotiating contracts all week. It’s usually something Gale handles because while I’m a good negotiator, he’s better. But his middle son caught strep and he didn’t want to leave his wife dealing with that. I wasn’t able to strike a deal with one of our oldest partners and I lost the contract.”

“Oh Katniss,” Peeta finally breathes out and buries his face in her hair. 

“I just wanted a night away from the reality of how I failed and let them all down. Just one night to relax and not feel like me or like I’ve ruined everyone’s life. Then it turned into two nights and… People are going to lose their jobs over this, Peeta.”

“Oh Katniss, honey,” he murmurs again and pulls her into his arms. She releases them then, all the stupid tears she’s been daming behind her eyes in an attempt to keep it together, to remain strong and aloof, like a proper boss and business woman would.

But she can’t. She can’t blithely walk away from a failed negotiation and shrug it off. Instead, she keeps seeing their faces and anticipating the devastation, the disappointment. 

Eventually, she manages to calm down and wipes away her residual tears with the tissue Peeta hands her.

“I’m guessing you’ve been thinking of a way to fix this for the past day or so,” Peeta ventures carefully and she nods.

“In the back of my head, yes. Plutarch sounded pretty final in his decision, though. I’m not sure I can convince him to change his mind, especially not from a distance.”

“What about supplementing with a project through another company? Anyone similar to you guys hiring right now? Maybe they could take on any employees you can’t afford to keep.”

“Maybe,” she admits and reaches up to brush back some of his hair. He needs a haircut, and Katniss wonders if that was something he planned on taking care of in the days right before the wedding but then didn’t. What would be the point if he wasn’t actually getting married?

“Is that why you won’t answer Gale’s calls?” Peeta asks. “You don’t want to tell him that you lost the contract.”

“Yes,” she says, and the shame of her confession overwhelms her.

“Okay look. I might be a dumpster fire of a human being at the moment, but I know that you have got to call your partner. Right now.”

He sets her aside on the couch, stands and finds her phone, offering it to her as her lip quivers. “Katniss, you and Gale are in this together. How can you possibly work on solving the problems if you don’t  _ tell _ him there’s a problem?”

“I get the feeling we’re not just talking about me,” Katniss says and Peeta makes a frustrated noise and drops her phone in her lap.

“That was kinda low. I’ll give you some space. Call your partner,” Peeta says and Katniss winces as he flings the door open, but he doesn’t slam it behind him as he leaves the room.

Katniss stares at the phone, and knowing Peeta is right but also sensing that he’ll be back to help her pick up the mess after, she opens it and calls Gale.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Peeta knocks softly and waits for Katniss to open the door. He’s spent so long wandering the halls that his leg is starting to ache. He needs to get off his feet. And he didn’t want to stay away from her any longer. 

The door opens quietly. Her eyes aren’t red and splotchy at least, but she does look tired.

“Everything okay?”

“Maybe?” she answers uncertainly. “He was so angry, but… mainly because I waited so long to tell him.”

“So I was right,” Peeta teases and she scowls at him.

“Don’t gloat. It’s not flattering on you.”

“You sure?” he says with a slow grin and a slowly growing desire to toss her on their bed and help her forget again. He reaches out and pulls her towards him. 

“Ugh. Just...no. You being right has nothing to do with your magical dick.”

“Magical dick?” Peeta asks, his laughter half choking him and making words difficult. “Who said anything about my dick?”

“I didn’t. I said nothing about it. And I’m not distracted thinking about you, either. Can we just drop this and go to dinner?”

Despite the fact that Peeta would really like to hear more about how she thinks he’s magical in bed, or at least his junk is, he’s guessing she’s about at her limit.

“He’ll forgive you,” Peeta says with no confidence other than that he has in Katniss. He’s got no idea what Gale is really like, especially not ten years after the last time they spoke.

“Gale doesn’t forgive anyone,” Katniss says with a dramatic roll of her eyes. “Even with my idea, I’m still in the dog house.”

“Idea?” Peeta prompts, sensing a reluctant hope hanging in the air.

“Yeah. And I have your asshole prodding to thank for it,” Katniss says, grabbing her yellow duck slippers and sliding them on her feet. “I’ll tell you about it over dinner. Right now, I’m famished and want to try out that restaurant.”

“Alright,” Peeta concedes with a smile. And then they can maybe get back to this magical dick conversation. Not that he’s fishing for an ego boost -- except that he’s definitely in need of as many ego boosts as he can get.

He’s surprised when Katniss laces their fingers together as he closes the door behind them. She’s quiet on the elevator ride down and then lets him do all the talking with the hostess and then the server as they’re seated across each other in a back booth. They request just glasses of water for now, and then they’re alone again. 

For a second, Peeta’s heart palpitates and his palms start to sweat. This feels like a date. The restaurant. Candlelight on the table, soft music, the muted sounds of other conversations and laughter. Katniss’ face glowing in the soft lighting. He’s not dressed for a date. He’s in jeans and a sweater, a button down underneath yes, but it’s not a dress shirt. He’s sorely in need of a haircut. Then, Katniss tosses her duck clad feet up on the bench next to Peeta’s hips and levels him with a stare.

If this is a date, he thinks as his body manages to calm down a little bit, then it is the most casual and perhaps the oddest date he’s ever been on. The usual expectations just don’t apply where he and Katniss are concerned right now. Somehow, the oddity of it all makes it easier for him to relax.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So, tell me about your idea,” Peeta prompts. His hand plucks her foot up off the bench and sets it on his thigh. He removes the duck slipper and replaces it with his broad palms and surprisingly nimble fingers. Or perhaps not so surprising, given his profession.

“Pretty simple,” she tells him, swirling her straw in her water as she talks and tries not to think about the gentle swipes of his thumb over her arches, or wonder if he gives a good foot rub, trained by all that dough kneading, or if it’ll be a little too deep and rough for her. “You mentioned maybe supplementing through contracts with another company, and that made me remember an offer we had a few months ago...well, more of a testing the waters idea, but anyways, at the time, we didn’t have the manpower to take on that scope of project.”

She trails off as the swipes deepen, his thumb pressing slightly into her arch. She has to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from moaning out loud.

“But you do now,” Peeta encourages.

“Yes, we will now. Which may actually work out better. We really, really wanted to take it on back then, but it’s so ambitious. I don’t even know if the offer still stands or if the old drunk managed to find someone else.”

“Worth a shot.”

“That’s what I thought. I left a message, so hopefully I’ll hear something back soon.”

“What’s the project?” Peeta asks and releases her foot as their salads arrive.

“Solar panel pavement,” Katniss explains and shovels a bite into her mouth. She keeps her foot right where Peeta left it on his thigh. There’s no way she’s moving it now. Not if there’s a chance he’ll continue massaging it. “Not just a street or two, but an entire city.”

“That’s awesome. Well, here’s hoping you hear back soon,” Peeta says and she manages a brief smile before changing the subject. There’s still a chance this won’t pan out, a chance Haymitch Abernathy won’t even call her back. There’s still a chance that even if he does, the answer will be “thanks but no thanks.” 

She hopes he does call her back. She’d been so excited at the prospect when he had pitched the idea months ago, but Gale’s pragmatism had won out at the time. They just didn’t have the bodies to work for both Haymitch’s Ashland Technologies and Plutarch Heavensbee. At the time, they couldn’t afford to take the risk of hiring any more.

She still needs to continue thinking up and pursuing other options, ways to keep her workers on payroll, just in case this option doesn’t pan out for them.

Their conversation meanders. Peeta resumes massaging her foot after he finishes his salad. By the time their entrees arrive, he’s massaged every ache and kink out of both her feet. She doesn’t care that she’s sitting in a restaurant in socks, and she’s starting to melt into the bench. It’s so sweet and maddeningly distracting.

Her cheeks feel flushed and her breathing erratic. Food sounds more like a distraction than a necessity right now and she’s wondering how Peeta hasn’t noticed that he’s basically wrecked her. Turned her into a panting, sopping, boneless mess.

She’s ready to crawl across the table, into his lap and ask him to hold her like a child when Peeta takes his first bite of his main course, her feet rapidly growing cold propped on his lap, deprived of his hands, his dedicated touch.

And he moans.

He moans over the food and her brain is instantly in bed upstairs with him naked and sucking champagne off her toes. 

Not really because ew, she thinks and ducks her head to focus on her food. She doesn’t have a foot kink so why did that image pop into her head?! She peers up at him across the table, through the veil of her lashes, pondering what exactly it is about Peeta Mellark that has her so discombobulated and acting like a foolish school girl. Feeling just as giddy and hormonal.

“This is really good. Now I wish I’d eaten here all week,” Peeta says around some of his food still in his mouth, his hand lifted in front of his lips so she doesn’t see. His words send a cold trickle of dread down her spine. Because he’s not showing perfect manners? No, Katniss doesn’t really care about that, as long as he’s polite in his treatment of people -- which he is to a fault, from what she’s seen.

Or because he should be here with someone else. Someone else should be rubbing their shoeless feet on his thighs, silently begging for another massage. Someone else should be thinking about his body and his kisses and his sexy moans. Someone else should be sitting here wishing the restaurant were completely empty so Peeta could wrap her up in his arms without fear of being watched or censured.

Was he like this with Rebecca, Katniss wonders, unable to stop the intrusive thoughts. Because if she’s honest with herself, she’s lost track of when this stopped feeling like a one night stand and started feeling more like a date, like the start of something...something...she can’t find the right words and gives up trying.

Because it’s nothing. It can’t be anything. There can’t be anything real between them. Because tomorrow, whatever it is or could have been, it will be gone. 

“How’s yours?” he asks and points towards her plate. Katniss glances down and realizes she’s already scarfed down half of it. Funny, she can’t remember eating a single bite.

“Oh, it’s...wonderful. Everything is wonderful.”

“Yeah? Alright, enough easy questions. There’s so much more I want to know about you before tomorrow, Katniss.”

“Like what?” she says with a bit too much venom that Peeta either doesn’t hear or ignores.

He actually does pick back up with softball questions though, and they make it easier for her to forget that all of this will be over tomorrow. 

A TV show you’ve wanted to watch but haven’t found the time yet. First memory. Favorite thing about her college and her job. Best birthday ever. Dream vacation. 

“Not getting stuck in the airport,” she says and Peeta laughs slightly, lifting his wine glass in toast to her. When did they add wine? She really is a mess right now and takes an ill advised gulp or two of hers. She takes a deep breath and then finally takes a slow bite of her food, savoring the flavors on her tongue this time.

“Biggest regret?” Peeta asks and Katniss’ eyes fly open to stare at him. She’s suddenly seventeen again, holding a pink rose already turning brown along the edges of the petals. The stem weakened and too soft from not enough water. The carefully written note, crumpled from her shoving it in her pocket to hide it once she realized what it said. Who it was from. Her cheeks burn now as hot as they did back then, knowing what she was going to have to do and hating both it and herself.

“Sorry. That was probably too--”

“I wish I could be better about keeping in touch with my sister,” she interjects to cover her real thoughts. It sounds much better. Makes Katniss sound like a good sister as opposed to someone hung up on a high school crush. Maybe on any other date, with any other man across the table, that would have been her answer anyway. Something about her sister.

Peeta’s slow smile warms her.

“Yours?” she asks and fills her mouth with food before she can contradict herself.

“There was a lakeside barbeque once, and my brother Ryen was hardcore flirting with this girl. He’d been a bit of a jerk to me all that morning and I was looking for a chance to get back at him. And there was this moment when they were standing on the dock talking. Ryen’s back was to me, he didn’t know I was there, and I almost pushed him into the water.”

He stops talking then and takes another sip of wine. Curiosity builds inside Katniss as he stays silent.

“Why didn’t you push him in?” Katniss asks softly and Peeta looks up at her with a wistful look on his face and a slow shrug of his shoulder.

“Because she laughed.” Katniss shakes her head, confused at his explanation. Peeta huffs out a soft laugh and looks down at his own hand resting on the table. Katniss reaches out and slides her fingers under his. He doesn’t retreat but curls his hand around hers. “She laughed at whatever he said to her and I didn’t...didn’t want to ruin it for my brother. He’d uh, had a thing for her for a long time, you know?”

And just like that, Katniss can’t meet Peeta’s earnest blue stare any longer. Not now that she’s thinking about what Johanna said, about Peeta having a crush on Katniss too. Not now that she’s wondering how long he nurtured that crush.

“Peeta--”

“Ridiculous, isn’t it? They’re married now, and sometimes I wonder if she would’ve laughed if I’d pushed him in, and then still gone out with him later that week. I don’t think me getting him back that day would’ve made a dent in what was building between them.”

“And then at least you would’ve gotten him back.”

“Yeah, opportunities to get back at Ryen are few and far between with how high he’s usually got his guard up,” he agrees softly, his thumb brushing back and forth over hers. Back and forth in that careful caress that Katniss already knows she’d betray her grandmother to feel.

“I’m surprised it’s not something bigger, like picking a different college or a different major or--”

“I can see you’ve never been on the sharp end of Ryen’s tongue,” Peeta interjects and Katniss pauses for a moment, trying to come up with any kind of memory of interacting with his brothers. Peeta’s everywhere in her memories from school, but not his brothers. They’re vague indistinct shapes with blue eyes and blonde hair.

“No, can’t say that I have. I’m not sure I’ve ever spoken to either of them.”

“Trust me, you don’t wanna. He’s got a knack for saying just the right thing to get in your head and mess with you.”

“Such a loving brother.”

“I’d die for him...if I don’t kill him myself first.” Katniss laughs at this and Peeta finishes his wine, leaning to his side with a smile and attempting to catch the attention of their waitress.

By now, the words have jammed up, the years left unsaid pushing them up her throat. It probably isn’t fair, springing this on him, given that they still have to get through the night sharing a room. Telling him now may make things uncomfortable at the least, icy at the worst. Yet none of that stops the words from spilling forth into the candlelight.

“I wish I’d gone to prom with you,” she blurts out and Peeta freezes. He glances back at her, confusion written all over his face.

“I was uh...Okay, maybe we’ll wait on dessert. What brought this up?” 

Katniss bites her lip to hold back any more words that might want to inconveniently charge out of her mouth. He shakes his head again as he releases her hand and sits upright, his attention zeroed in on her.

“Regrets. We’re talking about regrets,” Katniss manages to say and then becomes very interested in the remains of the sauce that coated her dinner. Peeta stays silent. It builds and builds until Katniss lifts her eyes to find him staring at her.

“You wanna…” he swallows and it’s that motion that tells Katniss he’s afraid of her answer. He’s holding himself together, perhaps as tightly as she’s holding herself together. “You wanna explain that?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He’s seventeen and standing in front of his locker, the crowds thinning as the other kids all head home, but Peeta’s stalling, still waiting for an answer. All through calculus, he’d stared at the back of Katniss’ head, his eyes following the familiar lines of her braid. Twice he’d leaned forward with words stuck in his throat, only to sit back and hold his tongue. She hadn’t seemed excited or happy or anything, really. Her eyes met his when she walked into the classroom then flicked away before she walked with her head down to her seat.

He’s seventeen and slamming his locker door at the end of the day, angry at himself and regretting that it took him twelve years to work up the courage to do something like this, and in the end instead of one of the thousands of sweeping gestures he’d imagined over the years, he couldn’t even find the courage to ask her to prom face to face, and instead did it through a stupid flower gram.

He’s seventeen and jumping at her sudden appearance at his elbow, her nervous gray eyes looking over her shoulder and then her whispering, “I can’t...I can’t go with you.”

He’s seventeen and tracing his tongue over his braces, holding back fury and disappointment, embarrassment and tears as she walks away. Really, what did he expect? Why would she possibly want to go with him to prom? He knew when he asked that it was probably a long shot. All that existed between them were brief looks that never lasted long enough and left him feeling feverish, inconsequential snippets of conversation that never led anywhere.

_ “Can I borrow a pencil?” _

_ “Hey, your choir solo was amazing.” _

_ “Did you figure out number 26?” _

_ “Good luck at the wrestling meet this weekend.” _

But that hadn’t kept him from getting his hopes up.

...Except now they’re twenty-eight and she’s saying that she wanted to. She wanted to go with him. He holds his breath, seventeen all over again, waiting for the girl he has a crush on to crush his heart.

“You wanna…” Peeta swallows and manages to unglue his tongue from the roof of his mouth. “You wanna explain that?”

Katniss bites her lip and suddenly shakes her head. “Not really, no.”

“Okay. Well then I’m going to order dessert--”

“I wanted to say ‘yes’. I had such a huge crush on you in high school. But I thought, it’s just a crush. Nothing ever comes of those. So when Gale started talking about us being together…it just seemed to be the right thing to do...” She trails off and Peeta wonders if there’s more or if she simply doesn’t want to tell him the rest.

“Do you have a problem with me ordering us dessert or something?” 

He asked her to explain, but now he’s not sure he wants to hear this. It was years ago, what’s the point of dragging up old memories. Old hurts, even if they were trivial. At the time...at the time they didn’t feel trivial, and he’s not sure he can handle feeling them all over again right now.

“Would you forget about the dessert?” Katniss asks in exasperation. “I’m baring my soul here and you’re thinking about cake.”

“Believe me, cake is the last thing on my mind.”

They stare at one another and Katniss slowly slides her feet off his lap. Peeta grabs one foot and stops her, drags it back to rest between his slightly spread thighs. She’s not getting out of this that easily. He slowly gathers his words, so he doesn’t croak like a frog when he speaks.

“I guess I just don’t understand. Why tell me now? I mean, Katniss it was years ago. And I kinda figured, when you showed up at prom with him as your date, that you two were together. I was actually stunned you two hadn’t gotten together sooner.”

“Everybody was,” Katniss says rolling her eyes and looking peeved. “That was part of the problem.”

“People thought you’d work well together, and you kind of do. You have a successful business, right?”

“People were wrong and should have minded their own business,” Katniss says vehemently enough to surprise him into taking another deep sip of wine to hide his thoughts. “The worst part is...when I was dancing with him at prom...I still wanted it to be you. Sometimes I wonder if that’s the real reason we were doomed from the start.”

“That’s kind of…”

“Fucked up? I know. I felt terrible about the whole thing the whole night, and for weeks after, I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t more happy to be with Gale.”

“Katniss,” he says and almost smacks himself before saying anything else, because he knows he’s going to regret it. “I’m really not sure what to do with this. You’ve always been so caring about other people that I’m guessing this is all coming to the surface because I got dumped three days before my wedding and then had the worst solo honeymoon ever.”

He’s relieved when she laughs in a short snort but there are still tears glimmering in her eyes.

“But the thing is… that happened years ago. I think maybe we ought to be able to forget it. Or at least move past it. While I appreciate the attempt to boost my ego by you telling me these things, I can’t help but wonder how much of it is influenced by hindsight.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

None. 

Her heart shouts the word, but her brain pauses and wonders if he might be right. Peeta swallows then and sort of stares off to the side.

“I had a pretty crummy prom. I don’t know if you noticed.” 

Katniss noticed. How could she not? Shelby Brunswith had complained to anyone who would listen about how Peeta had driven her in his car — a hand me down Honda that all three Mellark boys had driven — rather than forking over for a limo. They’d been hit hard by a recession at the time, his family struggling to keep their bakery afloat. But all Shelby could see was the worn seats, the dent in the rear bumper, and the tux that maybe wasn’t top of the line. She complained that he had sweaty hands, then that he didn’t even kiss her. That she had expected going to prom with a state championship wrestler would be more glamorous and exciting. For weeks after prom, all Katniss heard about in her English class was what a disappointing prom date Peeta Mellark had been. All while Katniss had tried not to punch Shelby in her perfect nose or rejoice over the fact that Peeta hadn’t kissed the selfish twit. Her torment didn’t end until graduation.

In the end, it didn’t really matter, though. Katniss had gone to prom with Gale. He had kissed her, and she had agreed to maybe give them a shot at something more than friends. 

“I noticed,” she murmurs to Peeta.

“It’s not exactly easy hearing right now, given what’s just happened to me, that that particular shit show of a night could have been completely different...if I’d asked you a little sooner or something. So you went with a friend who turned out to be a better fit for you as friend than a boyfriend. And now ten years later, we’re sitting here and I’m not sure that prom is even relevant anymore.”

“Then what is relevant?” Katniss asks and her breath catches as Peeta leans across the table towards her, eyes clear and intense.

“I like you, Katniss. I always have. And right now, in this moment, I think we’re on the same wavelength. I’m tired of what-if-ing my life to pieces. That’s all I’ve done for the last two weeks. I’d rather walk away from this couple of days without regretting what’s happened between us. There’s no tomorrow for us. The past is a mess and that leaves just tonight. And I don’t know about you, but I’d like to spend every possible minute I have left with you enjoying whatever this is and what it isn’t. I’d like to start by kissing you again and then maybe seeing how many times I can make you come before morning, not by rehashing high school.”

Katniss stares at him for two beats and then whips her head up to look at their server, who either has excellent or deplorable timing.

“Dessert tonight, folks?” she asks cheerfully.

“Can we charge the meal to the room?” Katniss asks instead.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They make it into the elevator, but only just, before Katniss is on him. Their fingers are still tangled together. She took his hand in hers as they rushed out of the restaurant, and now they struggle to untangle themselves as he falls back against the wall. Frantic hands beneath his sweater and greedy mouths make thinking impossible, acting difficult. She’s kissing him like there really is no tomorrow and he barely manages to hit what he thinks is the button for their floor before her hand has his jeans undone.

“Cameras,” he mutters because don’t all elevators have cameras these days and she groans then switches their positions so his body shields her from view. He curses and holds her head steady while they kiss, and her hand shoved beneath his clothes strokes him almost desperately. It hurts a little, so he knows he won’t come, but feels good enough to have him thrusting into her touch and moaning into her mouth.

He’s still a little shocked that his words worked at the table and that she didn’t throw her water in his face. He was kind of mean, but he couldn’t stand to dwell on the past or what could have been if Katniss had gone to prom with him instead of with Gale.

Instead, he gave into the weakness gnawing away at him all night. The need to have her again. To be inside her and hearing her breathy gasps as he makes her fall apart and makes both of them forget the rest of the world.

He can feel it receding as they kiss, the rest of the world, becoming unimportant. In this elevator, there’s no family with pity filled faces, no judgmental mother, no ex-fiancée who cheated and lied and destroyed any shred of confidence Peeta had left in himself. There’s no lost contracts, no destroyed shoes, no employees facing the loss of their job or a risky future venture to save it. No pressure to see to anyone else’s desires or needs or expectations. 

There’s only them. Him. Her. Us. This.

The bell rings and Peeta manages to pry his eyes open, haul her up in the air. She lets go of his cock and wraps her limbs around him, their mouths still fused together and his heart pounding madly as he stumbles to the door.

He falls against the metal framing and groans.

“What?” Katniss asks and moves her mouth to start kissing his neck. His knee quakes but he rolls across the wall and back into the elevator.

“Wrong floor,” he says and she laughs but keeps kissing him as he blindly hits another round button before slamming her back into the wall and sliding one hand down over her ass to grab hold. He shifts her weight in his arms and starts grinding himself against her as the elevator starts moving again. Which is it making his stomach swoop -- the movement of the elevator or just the thrill of making out with Katniss? The anticipation of being with her again?

She claws at his neck and he hopes the marks she leaves never fade. If all he gets is tonight...he doesn’t want to forget a single moment of it.

The bell rings again and Peeta tears his mouth from hers long enough to check the numbers across the hall from the elevator.

“Damn it,” he mutters and Katniss laughs as he makes a third attempt at remembering which damn floor their room is on. She pulls aside his collar and sucks on the junction of shoulder and neck. His knee buckles and he hits three buttons at once, swearing loudly. “This is all your fault.”

“Well, I’m enjoying the entertainment,” Katniss says and tugs on his hair to bring their mouths back together as the doors slide shut again. He grins at her sassy tone and bites gently on her bottom lip.

“Yeah? The longer it takes for us to get back to the room, the longer you have to wait for my magical dick,” he whispers and she groans, grabbing hold of his neck and grinding herself against his erection.

“Are we sure this elevator has a camera?”

“They all have cameras these days,” he says and the door chimes again. It slides open and a couple takes one step on then jumps back as they notice Katniss and Peeta wrapped around one another. Peeta’s cheeks burn as he mutters an apology and Katniss hides her face inside his shirt with a groan.

“Sorry.”

“Not a problem. We’ll just take the next one,” the wife says with stained cheeks and Peeta gropes for the  **Door Closed** button. “Why can’t you be passionate like that, Harold?”

Katniss laughs at the woman’s words to her husband and runs her hands over Peeta’s shoulders. “I really hope that wasn’t our floor.”

“I have no idea,” he admits with laughter in his voice and goes back to kissing her. When the bell chimes a fourth time, Peeta gropes his way off the elevator. 

“Is this our floor?”

“Fuck it if it isn’t,” Peeta says. “We’ll just take the stairs.”

“It’s ours!” Katniss points to the sign and unwinds her legs from his waist. She grabs his hand and practically runs down the hall.

Her hands are in his back jeans pockets as he unlocks the door. Her fingers are in his hair as they stumble into the room. She’s kissing his ear and urging him to move faster as they reach the bed. Then she’s pushing him down onto the mattress and standing in the moonlight, stripping off her clothes. She undresses faster than him and unbuttons his shirt for him, while he gets his prosthesis off. It clatters to the floor as they roll across the sheets and Peeta flings his arms about to get the sleeves off his wrists. 

And when he’s finally naked, hovering above her, he pauses to run a hand over her cheek. An unbearable swelling in his chest makes itself known as he memorizes the way she smiles up at him, the way her lips look, all plump and swollen from their kissing. Her hair slightly messed up from his hands in the elevator. Perfect, he thinks. Not because she is actually perfect. Not because their time together fits some sort of ideal, but because this moment itself is perfect for what it is. For them. For what they both needed right here, right now.

Then she pulls him down to kiss her again. Their frenzy is renewed as her left hand crashes around on the nightstand, looking for the condoms probably. Her right hand is still buried in his hair, holding their mouths together. He can’t tell their moans from their laughter as he caresses his hand over one leg and wraps it around his hips, shifts his weight to the other side and repeats the motion.

Something crashes to the floor and Katniss growls in his mouth before turning her head to look at what she’s doing. Peeta’s still chuckling as he lets his hand wander over her breast then down her navel to her core. His fingers are almost immediately soaked with her arousal.

“Fuck,” he whispers and Katniss turns back to him with a condom in her fingers.

“This one’s up next.”

“Already?”

“Am I not wet enough for you?” she asks wryly. Peeta’s hands shake as he gets the condom on. He still slips a finger inside her, then two, afraid of shoving home and hurting her. Katniss doesn’t protest the delay, their foreheads resting together and their eyes locked on one another. He watches each catch of breath, absorbs every moan until it’s his name as a plea.

They moan in relieved unison when he finally withdraws his fingers and sinks slowly into her. 

“More.”

“Isn’t this enough?”

“No. More,” she whispers and hikes her leg up. Peeta gets the hint and helps her shift until her legs are draped over his shoulders. He starts to move, slow and gentle, giving her a chance to stretch and adjust. The cling of her walls on him is heaven and he bends down to claim another kiss.

“How’s that?” he whispers and she nods. Her hands run all over him, grab his ass and pull when she wants him to move faster or harder. They’re moving at a steady, just a touch past sedate pace, when a thought makes him smile.

“What?” Katniss gasps. “What are you smiling at?”

“Just wondering… would you swipe right  _ now _ ? Knowing about my magical dick and everything else?” He thrusts into her with more force and she arches with a groan before he backs off just a touch. Then she levels him with that smirk of hers that borders on a scowl.

“Peeta… oh god.” Her words don’t carry as much bite when she’s fighting against pleasure. She has to swallow before she can speak again. “Peeta, my feet are behind your ears. I think it’s clear you’re a hard ‘ _ yes’  _ for me at this point.”

She does scowl at him when she realizes he timed that thrust to coincide with the word ‘yes’ and turn it into a moan. He grins and then she grips his ass again. With only a tiny bit of urging, he’s thrusting faster. Faster, racing towards the edge. Her eyes haze over and her nails score his back and arms and shoulders.

He’s not ready. Not ready when she falls silent and her legs go rigid and straight, taut and shaking against his head. Her hips seem to bounce beneath him, colliding with his body as her walls squeeze squeeze squeeze. He’s not ready when the world goes black. Not ready when it bursts into never ending flames.

After, he falls in a heap on top of her, neither of them able to speak or move beyond getting her legs down off his shoulders. Then, only a few stray caresses and a handful of awed kisses. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They take a bath together, all playful kisses and blowing bubbles into the air. Slick skin as Katniss reclines back against Peeta, his arms stretched along the rim of the tub. Then his hands dive beneath the water and paint nonsense onto her thighs until she can’t handle it anymore. They don’t even make it onto the bed, Peeta lurching up from where Katniss has him pinned to the floor, reaching for the strip of condoms and tearing one off while Katniss taunts him. They’re still half wrapped in their towels as she burns her knees on the carpet, making them both come at the same time with harmonized shouts of ecstasy.

They dress in pajamas and robes and sneak through the halls of the hotel to one of the vending machines. Peeta kisses her while he stuffs the pockets of their robes with candy bars and junk food and she giggles while telling him he’s too loud.

They recline on the couch with their dessert haul, their heads at opposite ends and Peeta’s hands massaging her feet again. Maybe he has the foot kink, she thinks as she melts happily into the cushions. 

They turn off the lights and watch the snow falling through the windows, Katniss laying mostly on top of him, her body curled into his. They talk. She asks about his leg. Peeta’s hands comb through her loose hair while he tells her. He keeps doing that even after they fall into a content silence, until sleep takes her and sends her on a journey of lovely, peaceful dreams.

She wakes briefly as Peeta carries her to the bed, only long enough to make sure he climbs in with her rather than tries to be unnecessarily noble. Or distant.

Do they sleep? She can’t be sure. She knows that she wakes sometime after midnight, alert almost instantly and confused for a moment or two as to what woke her. The wind howls outside and the moon has vanished. Behind clouds or the horizon, Katniss can’t tell.

Her eyes have adjusted to the dark and she turns her attention to her companion, pulling her body through the sheets to get closer. She lays half on his chest and reaches up to toy with his hair.

Is this creepy, she wonders. Watching him sleep? He looks so relaxed and peaceful. So...so handsome and yet so wholly unavailable.

Regrets start to assail her and she starts to wonder what exactly she’s done. There’s a mountain of work problems awaiting her, and here she is wasting the past two days engaging in a completely frivolous and doomed affair.

So she simply adds tinder to the fire and slides up his body to kiss him awake. He kisses her back for a moment, moaning softly and then inhaling sharply. He murmurs her name as his arms come around her.

“Katniss.”

He murmurs  _ her _ name and that’s all she can think about as they kiss. It’s all she can focus on as they slide clothing off of each other. As they caress like they’re saying goodbye, and she guesses in a way they are. He whispers her name as she rolls the condom on him, his fingers holding her tight. 

“Katniss.” 

All she wants to think about as she straddles him and he slowly thrusts up into her, is the way her name sounds when Peeta says it in the dark. The joining is easy and smooth, despite his daunting size, because right now, in this moment, there is nothing and no one she wants more.

“Katniss, fuck,” he murmurs in surprise. 

He whispered her name when he was still half asleep, and he keeps whispering it in between frantic sloppy kisses, their bodies sliding and meeting, never straying for long. His touch burns it into her skin, a plea or a promise or a fleeting moment, she can’t be sure. The uncertainty threatens to break her. 

Her name, just two airy syllables. He whispers it when she comes apart and claws at his chest. Again as he flips them over and thrusts down into her, the strokes dragging her release into something that feels intimate, primal, and undeniable. Words dance on her tongue and she fears their release into the air, so she wraps her limbs around him tighter, dreading the moment when she will have to let go. She plasters her mouth to his neck, kissing and biting as his groans grow louder, shorter, desperate.

Until it’s her name hovering in the air in one euphoric shuddering breath of air. Hissing accusations as she buries her face in his neck and hopes he doesn’t notice that she’s crying.

They fall back asleep, entwined and bare to the world.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The dawn is gray, like her eyes, he thinks as he stares out the window. He’s been awake for two hours now, alternating between staring out the window and staring at Katniss, asleep and curled so trustingly into his side, holding his left arm wrapped around her.

Outside, the sky grows lighter by the second. The end approaches. There’s so many more things he wishes he had time for. Another shower, another kiss, another day of lounging on the couch. Another hundred things he wants to know about her, a hundred more ways he’s thought of to try and make her laugh.

It’s been fifteen days since his engagement dissolved in front of his face. Just over two weeks. And these two days with Katniss...they can’t erase or heal all of that nightmare. They may help, but they are not the solution. If he had any chance with Katniss, any chance at all, he never wants either one of them to doubt what he feels for her.

All we have is tonight, he had told her in the restaurant…

But he figures he can cheat a little and turns to face her. His fingertips trace the back of her hand, up her arm back to her lips. He traces them and then leans in to kiss her. It doesn’t take long to wake her. He’s only hoping for a few kisses before he has to go. But when she pushes up and starts to kiss him, he doesn’t resist. He’ll take whatever she gives in farewell. 

Kisses. Slowly. Everywhere. 

The petal soft caresses bring tears to his eyes and an ache to his chest. This is what it should have been. What it could have been.

He lets that thought hang unexplained as Katniss tattoos his skin with her kisses until there’s not a single bit of him left unmarked. Only then does her mouth return to his.

Then, their hands and mouths turn desperate. His arousal is swift as she rolls them over together, his chest pressed to her back. She brings his hand down to feel her arousal, slick beneath his fingers as she guides him to her and he draws love notes he can’t voice onto her clit. They lay on their sides, bodies joined with his arms iron bands of comfort around her as they move together and whisper, afraid to disturb the sun into waking too soon and ending their time together. His fingers pluck notes of ecstasy from her. Her fingers strum out tunes of content delight as they stroke through his curls.

“Keep doing that, please,” he begs although he’s not sure exactly what he means. But he knows the sounds and feel of it as she comes. Knows the brief frustration when he can’t join her yet. He rolls her further and becomes a sensual blanket, hips pushing into her, pushing her higher into clouds of pillows as his moans rain down on her ears and she squeaks out one note before she flies again, taking him with her this time.

She’s moaning his name, sounding content, as her eyes drift shut and her body turns limp beneath him. Her hand slipping from his hair and dropping onto the sheets. He stares at her, suddenly terrified that she wasn’t even fully awake. That she won’t remember this time or how beautiful it was with the sun slowly tiptoeing across their skin. Then he realizes…

It doesn’t matter.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s torture, Katniss decides. Complete torture to lay there, pretending to be asleep and listening to Peeta gather his things and get dressed. Absolute torture to lay in the bed, still naked and warm from his loving, and pretend she doesn’t feel him tracing a finger over her cheek, tucking her hair back behind her ear. Pretending she doesn’t feel his kiss beneath her ear, or hear his whispered words.

“I wish I could stay. But I can’t afford to break you, too. You deserve so much better than what I can give you. Please forgive me, Katniss. This meant everything to me.”

It’s torture biting her tongue and not begging him to stay with her.

The door closes softly behind him and she waits only for one minute, hoping maybe he’ll return, even if it’s because he forgot something.

When he doesn’t, Katniss pushes herself upright and takes a long look around the room, memorizing it for future nights, when she needs something to laugh or smile over. There’s a note on the nightstand. Simple and straightforward.

_ The room is yours until you need to leave for the airport. <3 Peeta _

She smiles at the fact that he drew a heart rather than writing out the word “love.” she can’t decide if it’s dorky or adorable or perfect. Maybe it’s all three.

Rising to her feet, she takes her time showering, enjoying the luxury one last time. She dresses and even bothers to blow dry her hair before pulling it up in a bun like she always does. She changes her mind halfway through and instead braids it around back then over her shoulder, soft and loose.

While she’s gathering her things from around the hotel and packing her bag, she has to get a little creative, rolling up a pair of men’s underwear, a white t-shirt, and a lacy pair of orange panties into a tight cylinder before burying them at the bottom of her carry on. She smiles a little at the serendipity that led to the only reasonably priced, semi-comfortable looking, somewhat sexy panties in her size also conveniently being in his favorite color. She bemoans the loss of the remaining bubble bath, but it violates the three ounce rule. The scented lotion she tosses in the front pocket with her other ziplocked travel toiletries...only after rubbing some into her hands. 

Finally, she flings the bedsheets around to make sure nothing else is left behind. A mangled black box and a strip of condoms fall out of the linens near her feet. She stares at them and almost laughs, then she picks them up, briefly counting the remaining condoms on the strip, just to see if her initial estimates were right.

Twenty-nine. There are twenty-nine left on the strip, and the number depresses her. So many missed chances, she thinks. She holds the end between her fingers and runs it pinched between the fingers of her other hand.

An urge strikes and before she can second guess it, Katniss folds them neatly into their roll, shoves them in the barely hanging on box, and stuffs the condoms into her bag. Maybe they can still have their day of glory. The zipper squeals in the quiet of the room as she shuts her bag. 

She pauses in the doorway, her heels dangling from her fingers and her yellow duck slippers on her feet. After one last look, she leaves behind perhaps the craziest most whirlwind honeymoon ever with a smile on her face.

The smile fades when her bag is flagged going through the x-rays and she scowls at the TSA agent showing her on the screen which area of the bag caught their attention. It takes her a moment of squinting to recognize the shapes. When she does, her face burns and she opens it for the TSA agent to see the box of lubricated condoms next to her laptop charger and a pouch filled with metal plated pens that are her favorites.

The TSA agent laughs, a grin on her face as she explains that anything metal next to things that are vaguely liquid or gel gives them an odd reading they have to check out.

“Enjoy the rest of your trip!” the woman says as Katniss gives her a tight nod and turns to head towards her gate.

She’s half expecting to run into Peeta again, and searches the crowds for a familiar blonde head of hair. She doesn’t see him. 

Safely aboard the plane, she sinks into her seat and stares out the window at the snow covered landscape and the warm streaks of pink and orange as the sun persists in rising.

Someone sighs and grunts next to her. Katniss barely spares her neighbor a glance as the elderly woman glances at her slippered feet and gives her a toothy smile. 

“Cute slippers.”

“Thanks. They make me think of my sister.” And now they will forever make her think of Peeta, too.

“Good trip so far?” the woman asks as she shoves a bag under the seat and pulls out a book of crosswords, tucks a pen behind her ear.

“Yeah,” Katniss says with a softness in her breast, a delicious sense of happiness. “It was actually pretty great.”

After all, she thinks as the engines spool up and the bells announcing they all need to strap in sound, this doesn’t have to be the absolute end. They ran into each other by chance, after all. Maybe it’s just the end for now.

She closes her eyes for a second and imagines him on a plane in the air, bouncing his knee nervously, maybe cracking a joke to set his neighbor at ease even as he starts to worry, to regret. She pictures him searching for his pack of gum -- cinnamon burst -- and finding a cream business card tucked inside. On the back, the words she wrote while he slept and the moon kept her awake.

_ For when you’re ready. I’ll swipe right. -- Katniss --  _

And her phone number.


	5. Epilogue

When Peeta wakes to bright morning sun, he’s momentarily confused. He turns his head, squinting at how fuzzy everything is before groping about for his glasses, finding them carefully placed on the nightstand. His entire body aches from last night. He slowly takes stock of what hurts and gradually stretches out each sore muscle before sitting up in bed. The messy sheets slip away and he shivers, pulling one sheet back over his hips in a pointless venture to maintain some of the warmth. 

He’s naked and alone. His eyes land on the suitcase tossed by the door and he wonders just how much he’s going to need to apologize for last night. He was pretty aggressive, although she didn’t exactly complain at the time. She might now, if she’s as sore as he is, though. 

He lifts one hand to run through his hair and halts, stares at his palm with his fingers splayed wide. The light dancing off the silver around his third finger pulls his lips into a smile. Sounds reach him, metal clangs from the direction of the kitchen. As he flips his hand over to examine the top of the ring, the pearl embedded in the etched metal, his smile widens impossibly.

That’s when the singing starts.

He hurries to get his prosthesis and some clothes on, hurrying out to the kitchen, not wanting to miss a second of the performance. He stops and leans against the doorway, knowing that she heard him enter the room, but happy it doesn’t stop her from singing.

She once told him his footsteps were thunderous. Peeta crosses his arms as Katniss tosses her undyed braid over her shoulder and shimmies her hips while singing along to the country song playing softly on her phone. His heart clenches at the sight of her in green boyshorts, his t-shirt from yesterday, and those ridiculous yellow duck slippers that are so worn she’s had to resole them twice. She flips the food in the pan, the succulent smells of breakfast tickling his nose. 

As he watches, she turns slightly and frowns at him. She licks some food residue off her fingers, drawing Peeta’s eyes to the ring on her left hand. The one that matches his.

“You just gonna stand there or are you going to help?”

“You look like you have things under control.” Katniss shrugs and then flips the omelettes out of the pan onto two plates.

“Just for that, you’re getting the dishes.”

“Gladly,” he says and moves to stand behind her as she sets the plates on the table. He rests his hands on her hips and kisses the back of her hair. “Did I ever mention how lucky it was that I nearly ran you over in that airport? Or that you swiped left?”

She turns her head and he pictures her wrinkling her nose and smiling slightly at his teasing.

“Or that I actually thought it was a good idea to go to Haymitch’s fiftieth birthday party?”

Peeta smiles at the memory of seeing her at Haymitch’s house when Peeta had gone to drop off the cake -- six months after their one-two night stand. The way his heart had leapt then sunk as he realized he should have called her sooner. The smirking scowl she gave him when he said that to her face and the way his heart jumped again in hope when she had answered “Yes. You should have.” 

But he hadn’t been sure. He still wasn’t sure he had mended enough and could deserve her when she agreed to a first date. When she demanded that he put his number in her phone. When she showed up at his apartment the next night and told him she was done waiting. They could still go on their date in a week, but for now...then she’d kissed him. He wasn’t sure when they tumbled into bed together. When they woke up together in the morning and made plans for that afternoon. But he was sure when he asked her to marry him a year and six months later.

He grins as a thousand memories of the past two years surge through him, and lets his lips trail down her neck. “Don’t tell Haymitch that.”

“We’d never hear the end of it,” she agrees as she tilts her head so he won’t stop kissing her. Haymitch would gloat about bringing them together, in a way. But he’d say it with both love and sarcasm.

“Breakfast smells amazing.”

“I thought it was a good way to end our honeymoon.”

“Anything I can do to improve your honeymoon experience, Mrs. Everdeen-Mellark?”

“Just one,” she says and Peeta falters for a moment, worried that he’s somehow disappointed her. Until she smacks something onto his nose. His eyes go crossed as he tries to focus on the foil square. “You promised me we’d work through the whole box, and after all my careful shopping for honeymoon supplies… I am disappointed. I found this in your jeans. Care to explain yourself?”

They napped on the plane home and he’d been saving that one for the mile high club. They didn’t actually get a chance to use it, but Peeta decides that this is actually better. Peeta grins and Katniss squeals as he tosses her onto the table, takes the condom from her and tears it open.

“Maybe tomorrow.”


End file.
